Running Through Red Lights
by yaba
Summary: She's ruining all his plans to remain aloof and vengeful and he finds himself liking it. Post: Red Badge. Jane/Lisbon.
1. Part I: Silent Night

**Running Through Red Lights**

Disclaimer: Don't own anything…Lyrics by the super talented Mat Kearney.

Rating: M

Spoiler: Red Badge

A/N: This was such an amazing episode and all the awesome Jane/Lisbon moments inspired me. Enjoy!

XXX

Part I: Silent Night

"_Something's in the air tonight  
The sky's alive with a burning light  
You can mark my words something's about to break…"_

XXX

CBI headquarters were dark and silent.

The only light came from Teresa Lisbon's office as she leaned against her desk, her mind wandering as she fixated on the caution tape covering the broken window.

She'd pulled off a convincing performance tonight, but at what cost?

When Jane suggested the plan, she was hesitant at best, completely motivated by anger at being manipulated by her psychiatrist, ready to do anything to make that bastard pay.

It was disturbing to her that she'd been used by someone hired by the department and so she agreed to the plan.

However, now as she recalled everything that happened since then, including the things she'd admitted while presumably "breaking down", she couldn't help but wonder if maybe she was so convincing, because she was nearing that state herself.

Lisbon closed her eyes for a second, hoping for some reprieve, but all she saw behind closed lids were images from the past, flashbacks, suppressed memories that were fighting their way out of her subconscious ever since she was confronted with the possibility that she could have killed and not realized it.

The actual act of killing a demented child molester didn't bother her one bit, if anything it gave her a bit of satisfaction. What terrified her, though, was that she couldn't remember it, just like her father couldn't remember every single time he'd landed one of his sons in the hospital.

She'd been lucky to be a girl.

For reasons of propriety or maybe the fact that she reminded him of his dead wife, Lisbon's father never did any physical harm to her, but her brothers weren't as fortunate.

And suddenly, as each of her brothers' faces flashed before her eyes in various states of cuts and bruises, the memory proved to be too much and she opened her eyes, only to be met with the half amused, half concerned stare of Patrick Jane.

"Thinking about something?" He asked with eyes trained on her from across the room.

She blinked, startled by his appearance, but strangely not alarmed.

She didn't know what that meant, but despite how annoying, overbearing, and intruding he could be, Jane never made her uncomfortable.

If anything, he made her feel safe, which set off warning bells in her head, because feeling safe had been a foreign feeling to her since she was 12 years old…since her mom died.

And Jane didn't even carry a weapon.

But then, he had saved her life not three months ago…

"Teresa?"

She blinked again, raising an eyebrow this time, "Teresa?"

"You weren't responding to Lisbon," Jane explained, smiling softly as he stepped into the room and leaned against the desk besides her.

She'd seen so much of him lately, let him hypnotize her, let him into her apartment, into her personal sanctuary.

Yet as his shoulder brushed against hers, a shiver ran down her spine, followed by goose bumps.

Lisbon looked away, making sure the blonde consultant didn't see the blush that spread over her cheeks otherwise she'd never hear the end of it.

"What were you thinking about?"

She heard him this time, loud and clear.

The cadence of his tone intimate and shiver inducing.

When she looked at him again, his blue eyes the brightest spot in the dark office, the intensity of his gaze made her step back a little.

She wasn't sure how they could go from being playful and sarcastic around each other, to being silent and serious, but yet here they were.

His body was radiating heat and he looked concerned and he was waiting for a response with a patient smile on his handsome face and Lisbon felt a stirring that hadn't been there in years and it made her move away from him.

"Nothing," Lisbon said too quickly and Jane smiled to himself, observing her, and she felt scrutinized but oddly normal.

She was used to his looks; it was the concern in his eyes, his closeness, and him calling her by her first name that she wasn't used to.

"Liar,"

"What are you going to do? Arrest me?" Lisbon smirked, walking to her chair to grab her jacket.

"Don't have any handcuffs,"

Lisbon let out a chuckle, "What'd you do leave them at home?"

Jane turned around, crossing his toned arms over his dark blue vest, "You've got a dirty mind, Teresa."

The brunette agent rolled her eyes, while putting on her jacket, "I have a dirty mind? I wasn't even thinking about what you're thinking I thought."

"How would you know what I thought you were thinking?"

Lisbon opened her mouth to respond, but then slammed it shut, figuring it'd be a lot easier to admit defeat with Jane then try to beat him,

"Nevermind, c'mon…" she motioned toward the door of her office as she shut off the table lamp.

"Where're we going?"

"Celebrating for cracking the bastard today"

She wasn't sure why she was being so brave, but she was and she didn't question it.

"What makes you think I don't have any plans?" Jane deadpanned, but Teresa didn't even flinch,

"Well, let's see, it's 10:30 on a Friday night and you were loitering around the office, it's safe to say whatever plans you had, mine are better."

"My, my, aren't you insightful?" He murmured, but his voice had a facetious tone to it and he was already following her to the door.

"Yea, maybe I can be your apprentice?" She quipped as they stepped out of her office.

He playfully nudged her on the way to the elevator and they were back to banter again.

XXX

The night was warm and quiet as they sat on her porch, sharing a bottle of whiskey between them.

Every time Jane took a sip, his lip curved a bit down and Teresa couldn't help but smile.

"You don't usually drink, huh?" she asked, breaking the silence.

"Am I that obvious?" He grimaced more openly, handing the bottle back to her.

"Kind of, but then again, it's whiskey." Lisbon pointed out, taking a lengthy pull herself,

"It's supposed to taste like shit," she added and Jane sent her a bemused look,

"Tsk, tsk, Lisbon, potty mouth." He teased good-naturedly and the brunette detective smirked,

"You already said I had a dirty mind, I'm just fulfilling expectations,"

"The two go together?" Jane deadpanned and Teresa just shoved him lightly,

"You know what I mean."

They elapsed into another round of silence, but this time the blonde consultant broke it,

"So which one of your brothers played soccer?"

"Chris, the oldest one." Teresa replied without thinking, but then backtracked,

"Why'd you ask?"

"The jersey you were wearing, number 99 huh?" He recalled and saw the faint blush appear on his colleague's cheeks.

She looked away for a moment, but he smiled anyway.

He'd never tell her so, but when he'd showed up at her house just a few minutes before her therapist, and she opened the door in nothing but that jersey, exposing smooth, tanned legs, Jane thought he'd done a pretty good job himself pretending that seeing her outside of work in nothing but a flimsy top that barely grazed her thighs, hadn't roused a physical stirring him that had been absent for years.

Just as the thought crossed his mind, his wedding band caught the porch light, glimmering, and he paused mid-sip, watching the ring almost taunt him with its prominence on his finger.

He frowned as guilt washed over him.

This was why he didn't interact with people outside of work, especially those he couldn't get out of his mind later on.

This is why he should not have overstepped professional boundaries and allowed himself to have drinks with the kind hearted and beautiful woman besides him.

Teresa Lisbon was dangerous.

With just one peak into her life outside of CBI he was already intrigued, not only intrigued but also concerned for her and he couldn't let these emotions blind him to his ultimate goal.

His main reason for even taking the consultant job was to catch Red John, avenge his family's murder and he couldn't veer off course.

Teresa was about to reply, when Jane abruptly stood up.

Something had changed in the last minutes of silence, but she wasn't sure what it was.

She didn't possess psychic abilities, but she could read him perfectly at the moment, and her heart constricted unexpectedly when she realized he was trying to keep whatever was bothering him at bay.

"I have to go," He said without an explanation and she didn't push.

"Okay," Lisbon stood up as well, brushing off her jeans,

"Thank you for the drink," Jane motioned as he started to walk away.

"No problem." she nodded, watching him as he stood ambivalently on the last step of the porch.

He looked lost, but devastatingly handsome. His golden curls and standard attire made him look almost ethereal against the undisturbed dark of the night, and on impulse, she skipped a few steps and grabbed his hand,

"Thank you for helping clear my name today, if you ever need to talk, I'm here." She said, and before either of them realized what was happening, Teresa leaned in and pressed a soft, chaste kiss to his stumbled cheek.

The action spread unexpected warmth through his entire body and he tried his best not to flinch, knowing it would be misinterpreted by the guarded but sensitive brunette.

"You're welcome, I have to go now." He said softly, his lips a hairsbreadth away from her face.

Their eyes met in the dark and Teresa nodded with a small smile, but Jane could see she was disappointed.

So he squeezed her hand before breaking apart, because anything more would have had him pulling her inside the house and never leaving.

And he couldn't do that…not yet anyway

"Have a good night, Teresa." He murmured, before walking towards his car.

She leaned against the porch, taking a lengthy sip from the whiskey bottle as she watched him walk away, knowing full well that he'd be the death of her someday.

It was only when Patrick was inside his car that he truly let the day's events wash over him and as he braced his hands on the wheel, his wedding ring caught his eye again.

He knew his purpose, but looking up, seeing Lisbon look forlornly at his car from her porch, a familiar ache spread through his body, and he knew right then, that if he wasn't more careful around the agent, something would happen and he wasn't sure if he would survive the guilt.


	2. Part II: Playing For Keeps

**Running Through Red Lights**

Disclaimer: Don't own anything…Lyrics by The Fray.

Rating: M

Spoiler: Red Badge

A/N: I've switched to present tense from this chapter on, because it's easier for me to write that way. Thank you for all the amazing reviews. You guys are the reason why the next part is up so quickly!

XXX

Part II: Playing For Keeps

"_There's some things we don't talk about  
rather do without  
and just hold the smile…"_

XXX

After four days of fleeting looks, momentary smiles, and less loitering on the couch than usual, Lisbon decides that Jane is actively avoiding her.

It's quite ironic to her.

She's spent the last year trying to get him out of her office and away from her and now that he is actually doing so, she is annoyed by his absence.

There is a feeling of uncertainty that clings to her every time she gets lost in her thoughts and lets her mind drift to the night on her porch. She wants to pretend she doesn't know why he left so unexpectedly, but when she reflects on the day's events, Lisbon realizes Jane didn't just walk away for no reason.

No, there is method to his madness and it involves the wedding band that circles his left ring finger.

It makes her angry and slightly humiliated, because while she finds herself opening up to him more and more, it feels like he's effectively shutting down all their communication.

It makes her feel like a fool.

She knows he can't let go of what happened, doesn't expect him to, but she can't deny that things have changed between them in the last few months.

Words were spoken and looks were exchanged and most importantly trust has been earned.

So in a very rare immature manner, Teresa Lisbon can't help but secretly want to stomp her feet and scream at him like a child, telling him to forget the past and focus on the present.

Focus on _her_.

It's heartless to even entertain the thought, but it doesn't stop it from manifesting, which brings with it its own complications of guilt and anxiety, deepening her frown and further agitating her.

Suffice it to say, in the last week no one has dared to cross her.

Lisbon prides herself on being every bit the professional and amicable boss, but not like this.

No, when the object of her greatest frustrations is so close by yet so far out of reach, no amount of learned composure can conceal the creases in her forehead or the permanent frown etched on her lips.

Her mood only worsens when on the fifth morning, she checks her email to find a memo from Minelli stating that a new therapist has been assigned to CBI and she is to report to Dr. Barnett at 10 o'clock sharp for an appointment.

The notice is brief, to the point, and there is no room for negotiation.

That doesn't mean she has to like it and when she steps out of her office, heading toward the coffee pot, not even the golden head of hair peeking from the arm of the couch can brighten her mood.

This is going to be an hour she's not looking forward to.

XXX

"Agent Lisbon, very nice to meet you,"

Dr. Barnett greets her with a firm hand shake and a pleasant smile as she motions toward the brown leather couch.

Lisbon perches herself on the edge of the sofa, no longer feeling comfortable in this room and far more aware of her surroundings now.

"So, I understand this is a delicate situation, and I'll try to make the transition as smooth as possible. I'm here to evaluate you and we can call it a day, alright?"

"As long as you don't offer me any sort of beverage, we should be fine." Lisbon replies and the short, blond woman smiles knowingly.

She flips open the small notepad on her lap, crosses her legs, and focused her dark eyes on the Special Agent.

Lisbon feels scrutinized, but it's nothing new.

Psychiatric evaluations are never supposed to be relaxed or routine. They require some edge, some doubt hanging over them, as you ask yourself if perhaps the job has driven you somewhat closer to crazy than you think.

Perhaps it should have tipped her off that her last therapist made her feel awfully welcome in his office.

"So, Agent Lisbon, I don't suppose you have anything to share?" Dr. Barnett breaks through Lisbon's reverie and she has to smile.

This woman has the perfect combination of hardness and aloofness in her voice and she doesn't appear to take a lot of crap.

Lisbon instantly knows she will like her.

XXX

He is halfway through a box of case reviews when he looks up and lets out an inadvertent, "uh oh" garnering the attention of his four coworkers.

"Here comes Boss and she doesn't look happy," Rigsby murmurs under his breath.

The closest to him is Van Pelt and the two watch Lisbon as she storms through the hall and into her office, slamming the door.

"Where was she?" Grace muses, the game of Solitaire on her computer not as interesting anymore.

Cho is about to respond, but the blonde consultant idling leisurely on the couch beats him to it,

"New shrink assigned to the department, today was her first session." Jane explains with a noticeable frown.

He is caught between a rock and a hard place.

She knows he is avoiding her.

Thus, by intruding on her personal space after five days of limited interaction he runs the risk of pissing her off even more than any shrink.

Yet as she races passed him, he catches a whiff of something other than the floral scent of her perfume and apparent frustration.

Whatever happened during her session, it left Lisbon feeling vulnerable and exposed at work and that isn't a good sign.

Anything that challenges the professional persona she's tried so hard to build over the years initiates all her defenses and considering the attack on her credibility just the week prior, Jane knows that any personal issues they may have can wait.

He makes the decision to move the rock, break out of the hard place, and is in her office before Lisbon has enough time to take her jacket off.

"What do you want, Jane?" She hisses as soon as he walks in, "I'm not in the mood."

"You and Dr. Leslie got off on the wrong foot?"

Lisbon runs a tired hand over her forehead. Of course he is already on a first name basis with that piranha.

Did she suddenly forget who she was talking to?

"You could say that." She mumbles, opening her desk drawer and rummaging for a bottle of aspirin she has there.

"Don't." He motions with his hand, "didn't they teach you in the academy not to take any meds on an empty stomach?"

"How did you-…"

Her voice trails off, realizing once again that over the last week, she really did forget that Jane has psychic abilities, "never mind," she shuts her mouth, trying to pretend she doesn't notice the flash of concern in his blue eyes.

"_So Agent Lisbon, tell me about your team."_

"_What about them? They're a great group of hard workers."_

"_What about Patrick Jane? How has your relationship changed since he shot Office Hardy?" _

"_It hasn't." She's quick to reply and she supposes that it alerts the therapist even more. _

It went gone down hill from there. For the next half hour, Lisbon dodged questions about her attitude towards Jane's work ethic and seeming disregard of CBI's rules and protocol. She had to defend her position several times; giving examples of why Jane works as well as he does with her team specifically.

Lisbon isn't stupid; she knows why Dr. Barnett chose this seemingly irrelevant topic of conversation as a start off point.

She tried in a roundabout way to get Lisbon to open up, but it hadn't worked at all.

It was a valiant effort but it just pissed her off, enough that she stormed from the shrink's office after the blond woman dared to ask a question that ran too deep and too personal.

"_Does it strike you as strange that Mr. Jane, having never handled a gun, didn't hesitate shooting a man with a fire arm to save your life?" _

It wasn't fucking strange, Lisbon wanted to argue, it wasn't supposed to be anything, but simply denying that that day didn't matter and didn't alter things between them wouldn't make it any less true.

However, some over qualified and over paid psychoanalyst in a fancy suit didn't need to know that.

Lisbon almost feels justified in her hasty exit.

"Earth to Lisbon," His singsong voice pushes her out of her reverie and she blinks, but not before frowning deeply,

"What do you want? Seriously, it's not even noon yet and I'm already in a pissed off mood, anything I can help with?" she asks, her voice staccato as her delicate façade begins to crack.

Here, behind closed doors, and only his warm blue eyes cataloging her every glance and action, she might feel more exposed but is less concerned about it, because as she's come to realize, regardless of her desires, she trusts Patrick Jane.

And yes, he makes her feel safe even when she doesn't want to admit it.

"Just concerned for you, that's all. I can't imagine how it must feel to have another psychiatrist analyze you so soon after what happened."

His honesty surprises her. She wasn't expecting him to admit that he is checking up on her, she was waiting for a playful comment or a double edged compliment, and here he is, leaning with his elbows on his knees, very much the worried man he admits to being.

It reminds her of the broken man who she confronted in that basement months ago.

His eyes fighting between relief that she came and anger that she broke their plan.

His candor softens her immediately,

"Its fine, I've learned that shrinks and I don't get along."

"How can anyone?" He replies, earning a small smile from her.

Their eyes meet and she catches her breath just barely enough to notice.

Blue on green as they battle it out, with every passing second, wondering if perhaps they've strained this for far too long; stretched out the inevitable confrontation for way too many days.

She wants to speak up, reproach him for his childish manners, beat her tiny but strong fists at his broad chest, and demand an explanation for why he seems to already be putting the breaks on this, on whatever this could be.

However, Lisbon isn't like that.

She's never really been the confrontational type in her personal life; therefore, she remains silent, challenging him with her deducing green eyes, trying to exude a power over him she isn't sure she possesses.

And when it seems like he's just about to crack, maybe just _a little_, there's a sharp knock on the door, and she's forced to concede.

Minelli pokes his head in without invitation, already frowning when he notices Jane's presence.

His eyes strain on Lisbon and she stiffens in her seat, knowing what is about to come, but the older man doesn't even flinch.

"There's a new case, gather your team for briefing in conference room A," Minelli informs, before slamming her door none too gently.

He knows her meeting with Dr. Barnett didn't go so well, but at least the blond woman hasn't told on her, or better yet failed her on her evaluation.

She'll probably have to thank her for that later, but for right now, Lisbon focuses her attention on Jane once more. He's already at his feet, as if glad for the interruption, but for her it's another extension, another miserable deterrent to the outcome of this game they're playing.

He doesn't say anything, but when she walks out of her office, he holds the door for her and it's as if an understanding passes between them.

His blue eyes promise that they will talk later and Lisbon concedes again.

Yet she can't help but fix him with a long, hard look cautioning him not to disappoint her this time.

After all, she's still a woman and entitled to her prerogatives.

She walks ahead of him, motioning her team to follow her, and trying very hard to ignore the butterflies fluttering in her stomach as she feels a dark cobalt gaze of appreciation calculate her every move.

XXX

She's not too fond of office gossip, mostly because it isn't very professional and because she's been on the receiving end of it just a few days ago and knows how damaging it can be.

However, a part of her is curious as she overhears Rigsby and Van Pelt whispering by the coffee machine.

"Anything interesting?" She interrupts quiet rudely and two jump apart from each other as if they were on a spring.

Lisbon takes a bite out of the apple in her hand and chomps rather loudly for annoyance.

Cho would say Jane's obnoxiousness is rubbing off on her, but she knows her agents can see through her playful façade.

She's only joking, but the two look positively flushed, as if she's caught them making devious plans to pursue an in-office romance right under her nose.

"Nothing, boss, excuse me" Van Pelt makes a quick escape, walking back at her desk, while Rigsby narrows his eyes, positively livid for being abandoned.

Lisbon relaxes in the tall man's presence, assuring him with her smile that she means no harm,

"I'm only joking. Just thought I'd catch up on my gossip, what's the latest, huh Wayne?"

She's pouring coffee into a Styrofoam cup, hoping it won't taste as vile as it usually does, when she feels the tension radiate off Rigsby in waves.

"C'mon I'm not that scary," she teases and Rigsby is quick to concur,

"Yeah, boss, it's not about you. We just sort of found out something about Jane, kind of surprising."

Her hand pauses next to the creamer, "Oh?"

She tries to appear nonchalant, but even Rigsby can see through it, "Uh, yea, it turns out he put his house up for sale."

Suddenly the hot wave of realization and subsequent shame coats her cheeks.

She feels the air get stuffy around her, but thanks her well trained composure for the maintained air of disinterest.

"Oh really, that's uh, some news." She murmurs and before anyone can call her on her bullshit, she disappears back in her office, no longer striving for any sort of gossip.

Her body feels heavy as she drops into her chair, coffee and apple both forgotten, as she sits staring off into space.

She feels disappointed.

Not in Jane, but in herself, for doubting him.

The man she thought was pushing against her, shutting her out, was just doing the exact opposite, and she's been too self-involved and uninterested to care.

He was taking a step forward while she assumed that he was taking a step back and all of the sudden, she feels like she's failed him for not pushing for an explanation and choosing to act juvenile instead.

The urge to cry overwhelms her to the point that she has to take a deep breath, straining for clarity as much as for oxygen, trying to figure out when she lost sight of the bigger picture.

This is beyond her petty insecurities or his thirst for vengeance, this is about healing, and no matter what goes on between them outside this office, she has to show him that he can count and rely on her.

And she knows Jane will fight her every step of the way.

Well, she's Teresa Lisbon and she's certainly never backed down from a challenge.

_Game on._


	3. Part III: Be My Anchor

**Running Through Red Lights**

Disclaimer: Don't own anything…Lyrics by Coldplay.

Rating: M

Spoiler: Red Badge

A/N: Thank you all for your reviews so, so much! And everyone who added me to their alert lists. The silent types don't be shy and let me know what you think! I promise I don't bite hehe.

XXX

Part III: Be My Anchor

"_Lights will guide you home  
and ignite your bones  
and I will try to fix you…"_

XXX

The moment she walks into bullpen, Jane knows something is different about her.

He doesn't even have to open his eyes or move from his very comfortable position on the couch to realize that Lisbon breezes by him without so much as a look his way; quite different from the glares she's been shooting him all week.

Instantly, the blonde consultant knows that she must have somehow found out what he's been up to these past few days. There seems to be no other explanation for why she's suddenly much less hostile towards him.

He can't blame the woman for being so cold to him; after all he'd given her mixed signals and then shut her out just as quickly.

However, that night, sitting on her porch, sharing more than just a bottle of whiskey, felt more normal and exciting to him than any soul searching or fight for revenge ever has.

And if spending just a few intimate hours with the feisty brunette could suddenly appeal more to him than the years he's spent hunting down his family's murderer, then there is very good reason for Jane to stay away from Agent Lisbon.

Yet when he gets off the couch and their eyes meet through the yet to be fixed window in her office, he realizes why it's been so hard to detach himself from her and what possibly contributed to the impromptu decision to finally sell his house.

It has a lot to do with the owner of the curious and warm green eyes watching him across the room.

No sympathy in them, just understanding.

And he spends the rest of the day wondering how he can ever fight his attraction to her when she keeps looking at him like that.

He doesn't get her alone until later that night.

Lisbon sends the entire team home after a particularly grueling case finally closes and Jane feigns sleep until Cho bids his boss good bye.

The irony of the dark office and the fact that they are probably the only two people still in the building except night security doesn't escape him.

This isn't the best way to distance yourself from someone.

But then again, Jane knows about his incapability to follow rules, even the ones he's set for himself.

So he makes his way into Teresa Lisbon's office, trying very hard not to fixate on the way the light from the desk lamp illuminates her translucent skin and glimmering chestnut hair, making him want to run his fingers through both.

With such dangerous thoughts swirling in his head, Jane tries to conceal them by doing what he does best: annoying the hell out of his supervising agent.

She's so consumed with paperwork, she doesn't even notice his presence until he drops a white cellophane bag in the middle of her desk, not only startling her, but also making her lose her place.

"Jane…" Her voice trails off as she leans back in her chair and messages her temples, too tired to be truly frustrated with the blonde man.

"Good evening or should I say morning to you too," He replies back, sitting down in the chair opposite her desk.

Lisbon checks her watch and groans.

It's only now that she was rudely interrupted that she realizes its way past the acceptable time one should be at work.

Closing her eyes for a second, Lisbon smirks humorlessly,

"I might as well not go home, huh?" She muses, noting that she'll have to be back here in just a few hours.

"Take the morning off,"

Her eyes snap up at his suggestion and Jane gives her one of his brilliant smiles,

"You're acting like the world will fall apart if you do. Let someone else take the reigns for once, it won't kill ya."

Lisbon almost snorts.

"Easy for you to say, it's not like it's your job on the line."

She doesn't know why she says it, but his suggestion seems too personal, almost too intimate, like he's concerned about her again and all her well thought out plans to be his rock, to let him know he can count on her fade from her mind.

Because as much as Teresa commits herself to taking care of others, she has a hard time accepting others doing the same for her.

Like right now.

"You think that just because Minelli turned over Red John to that asshole-…" he sees her disapproving gaze from beneath long eyelashes and corrects himself,

"I mean the ever charming Agent Bosco, your credibility is under question? Lisbon c'mon we both know Minelli did it because of me and my slightly unorthodox methods of police work."

There's a hint of regret laced with mirth in his voice that almost makes her forget her occupational insecurities, but he's opened the can of worms and she finds herself talking against her better judgment.

"It's not that. I've just never had anyone try to frame me for murder or bring my professional skills under question. And having all of that happen under the watch of my old mentor, it's just…unnerving I guess. I've worked too hard."

Her downcast gaze and the nervous way she fiddles with her shirtsleeves makes his heart clench in a very unfamiliar way.

Up to this point, their friendship or whatever this was, consisted of Jane screwing up, Lisbon bailing him out, and pulling him out of the deep, dark places his mind ventured to whenever something hit too close to home.

He could deal with that.

But now, especially after everything she's been through, due in part to his unruly behavior, Jane can't handle watching her doubt herself, doubt the career she'd single handedly built through hard work and dedication.

"And nothing has changed." He reassures, "I promise your work will still be here tomorrow. You have got to give yourself a break."

Teresa looks up then to find that once again Patrick Jane's eyes betray everything he's feeling and it frightens her. He's usually so good at masking his inner feelings, so good in fact, that most of the time everyone around him sees only what he wants them to see.

Therefore, to have him be so open with her, even when he's trying to convince her to take care of herself, is testament to feelings she might not want to confront yet.

Issues that seem to haunt them both, roadblocks of their own making that won't let them be just two people with a genuine interest in each other.

She only now realizes just how tired she truly is.

Jane knows he's won her over as soon as she sits up and stacks the remaining paperwork into a neat pile and into a folder in her drawer.

Their eyes both fall on the bag in her desk.

"Aren't you going to see what I brought you?" he asks with his eyes once again retaining their whimsical glint.

"Do I want to know?" Lisbon quips back, a smile tugging at her lips.

Regardless, she unties the bag and when her smile grows wider, Jane knows the risk of her still being upset with him is worth it just to see her as shy and feminine as she is right now.

Lisbon isn't surprised that Jane knows exactly what her favorite midnight snack is but it doesn't stop the fluttering feeling in her belly or the warmness spreading on her cheeks when she pulls out the packets of Red Vines and Kettle Corn.

"I'm not even going to ask how you know, but I will say thank you." The brunette grins openly at him now and Jane tries in vain to ignore the feelings her smile arouses.

It's been a long time since he's noticed someone else or something else besides his blind revenge, and right now he's glad it's her.

Silence falls over them, as Lisbon places the items back in the bag and continues to clean her desk.

Somewhere in the middle of her task, she thinks about the man in front of her and how at ease she feels.

It strikes her that everything could be so normal between them when so much is left unsaid.

For now though, she wants to enjoy the moment, wants to revel in the fact that he stayed up while she worked, took time to pick out her favorite snack foods, and expressed a genuine concern in how she is doing.

And she makes a decision that most would probably think her crazy for, because Jane is still a dangerous man and she shouldn't trust him with her feelings, but she knows she's far too gone for it to matter.

All she can do now is take a deep breath and hope for the best.

"Hey Jane, what's my favorite movie?" she stuns him and takes a bit of pleasure in seeing a genuine look of surprise on the mentalist's face.

"It's a toss up actually."

"Oh really?"

"Yeah, it's between Breakfast at Tiffany's and The Breakfast Club." He explains, a teasing smile on his face when he realizes by the look in her eye that he's in fact right.

"I see a pattern there," He adds and Lisbon rolls her eyes, "I'm good aren't I?"

Lisbon shakes her head, "Depends. Which one do you prefer?"

"Hmm, I am partial to idealistic brunettes." He says in a low voice and Lisbon swears the man is trying to kill her with his innuendo.

"Well then you're in luck, because I have Breakfast at Tiffany's on DVD."

"Are you inviting me over, Agent Lisbon?"

"Only if you say yes."

Their eyes meet again in the dimness of her office and there's no denying the tension between them.

The air sizzles with electricity but also uncertainty, because there's still that proverbial elephant in the room, the one they're both trying desperately to ignore as they continue playing this game.

Eventually one of them will lose, but for now Jane thinks it's just too much fun.

It's so easy to lose himself in the depths of her eyes and the radiance of her smile that he doesn't even care about the consequences, at least not at the moment.

"Like I said," His voice trails off as he leans over her desk, his face so close she can smell the faint remnants of his cologne, "blushing brunettes are sort of my thing."

Then he steps out of her office, promising to be at her apartment in 20 minutes.

The natural rouge doesn't leave her cheeks for another hour.

XXX

She pairs their movie snacks with two bottles of beer and they settle in quietly cozily on her couch, a light duvet draped over their laps.

Lisbon tries to ignore the way Jane rests his arm casually over the back of the sofa, his fingers gently tangling in her hair, sending goose bumps down her spine.

She's certain the sugar content in both the candy and the popcorn will keep her up at least until her favorite part in the movie, but half an hour into the black and white masterpiece, Lisbon finds herself dozing off, barely able to keep her eyes open.

The next thing she knows, she feels herself lowered onto the pillow and despite how incredible it feels to finally relax and give into sleep, Lisbon registers the absence of the man besides her and opens her eyes, only to find him leaning besides the couch, draping the blanket over her.

"You fell asleep," He whispers, his face mere inches away from hers, and she doesn't want to move.

Her eyes close for a moment, and she revels in the feel of his breath against her cheek.

Jane isn't sure what's guiding his action but he isn't questioning himself for once. He doesn't think as his touch lingers on the blanket covering her body or when he swipes the bangs from her forehead.

She watches him through half laden eyes, making him think about what she'd look like after a night spent anything but sleeping.

He pictures how her hair would look like fanned across the pillow and how her skin would feel as soft as he's imagined countless times.

And when she makes a purring sound in her half conscious state, it sends shivers down his spine so intense, the urge to kiss her almost overpowers him, almost pushes the usually manipulative, calm, and aloof Patrick Jane over the edge.

Luckily, Lisbon chooses to save him yet again,

"I heard what you did." She says quietly, her eyes cast down, betraying the hurt she feels for him not telling her and allowing her to continue being upset with him.

"You did?" He asks again, his urge to kiss her now replaced by the sudden need to conceal himself and his insecurities.

At least he doesn't have to worry about wanting to take her clothes off.

"I'm proud of you," Lisbon explains and Jane finds that he's wrong yet again.

He still wants to take her clothes off and now he wants to hug her too.

Hold her, find a way to thank her for reigniting the desire in him to live and experience things again, even as small as sharing a beer and a pack of artificially flavored candy with his awfully pretty and devoted colleague.

Because, that's what Teresa Lisbon does to him, makes him want to live and maybe get some joy out of that life.

Yes it's scary and it's completely new and probably even a bit irresponsible, but it's more appealing than spending sleepless nights staring up at a ceiling marred by memories of his family, of his past, of a life that he desperately needs to put _behind_ him.

Lisbon sees nostalgia, guilt, despair, and pain flash across his face in succession and she also knows from the way his lip twitches and the way his hand is poised right over her cheek that he wants to kiss her.

It doesn't escape her that even the elusive Patrick Jane can't hide from a woman's intuition.

However, despite her desire to be claimed by this man, she doesn't want it to come out of his desperation to forget about his past and her desperation to be the rock he leans on.

She doesn't want him to regret it and she knows he will if this is the outcome of him trying to forget.

The cool metal of his wedding band pressing against her cheek reminds her that there is a world out there behind her closed door, and once again, Teresa lets herself be the one to clean up after Jane has taken it a step too far, been a bit too reckless with both of them.

"You should go." She whispers against his lips and Jane doesn't know whether to be relieved or disappointed, "it's late," Lisbon adds, sitting up and stretching.

His eyes catch the exposed skin of her stomach and he sucks in a breath, definitely relieved that she stopped them before things got out of hand.

He would never forgive himself for taking advantage of the woman in front of him. She doesn't deserve to be a distraction to him.

No, a woman like his Lisbon deserves to be kissed, when there is nothing on his mind but the texture of her skin and the smell of her perfume, not after a hellish work day and his dire need to detach himself from the sinking feeling that always accompanies the resurrection of his memories.

"Yeah," He murmurs, taking one last indulgent look at the half sleepy woman in front of him.

"Let me walk you out." She says, pushing off the covers and Jane feels a bit useless as she walks him to the door.

She looks so domestic, so well worn, so inviting, like if he wrapped his arms around her and buried his head in her neck she could help erase every bad memory and every haunting feeling.

It scares the blond man, because he realizes that she could be the anchor he's been unconsciously searching for.

Someone to steady him and help him through everything, maybe even save his sanity.

So he mouths her name, and pulls her close to him, crushing her smaller, softer body against his rougher frame, trying to absorb her warmth and commit her smell to memory, knowing it'll follow him into his dreams.

She doesn't fight him, wraps herself around him like she's trying to drink all of him in, indulging in the opportunity to feel him closer without infringing upon him.

When they pull apart, her heart is beating so wildly she's pretty sure he can hear it.

The intensity of his blue gaze doesn't waver as she stands rooted in her place, now debating whether she wants him to leave at all.

"You need to sleep." He stresses, as if trying to convince them both that he really shouldn't stay.

"Yea, I do." Lisbon nods and Jane walks to the door, not expecting her to be strong enough to follow him.

However, when he steps onto the porch and turns around to find her leaning against the door frame, trying as hard as she can to stay awake long enough to see him off, he can't help himself but reach out and run his fingers across her cheek.

It's never been more difficult to walk away as it is at the moment, but eventually she just smiles and chuckles softly at their reluctance to part,

"Get outta here Jane, I'll see you in a couple hours."

She touches his shoulder to playfully push him out the door and he grasps her small hand in his, gives it a gentle squeeze, and nods,

"Sleep well, dear Lisbon." He smiles at her with his entire face, especially his cerulean playful eyes and the tension seems to dispel quite a bit.

She notices the sun begin to rise and it's almost as if they're back to their old selves again as the shroud of night dissolves.

She watches as he retreats to the parking lot and when the blue car is far in the distance, she shuts the door, thinking that Jane is one hell of an opponent and this is quite the dangerous game they've begun to play...


	4. Part IV: Draw

**Running Through Red Lights**

Disclaimer: Don't own anything….lyrics once again by Mat Kearny. I'm sensing a pattern here.

Rating: M

Spoiler: Red Badge

A/N: You guys make me blush and squeal from happiness at all the reviews. You are seriously one of the most supportive groups of readers I've ever had. I've never had such inspiration to write and at least half of that is attributed to your support. Thanks!

XXX

Part IV: Draw

_"...And don't apologize  
For all the tears you've cried  
You've been way too strong now for all your life"_

XXX

Lisbon has always been an active individual. Since her days of ballet and dance theatre as a little girl, she's always had a fondness for exercising. However, it wasn't until high school that she discovered her love of running and joined the track team.

She had a year of success, until her father's substance abuse began to interfere with not only his life but also the lives of his children, and when faced with the choice of extracurricular activities or making sure none of her brothers end up at the hospital, Teresa didn't think twice about protecting her family.

So she quit track and never ran again.

Yet on this particular day, the senior agent wakes up restless half an hour before her alarm and upon examining what will likely be a very warm day in Sacramento, decides to give her neglected sneakers a good exercise.

She retrieves her IPOD, changes into work out clothes, and to the tunes of oldies takes off towards the direction of the Sacramento River.

Invariably, her thoughts turn to the blonde consultant who is slowly but surely making his way into her personal life.

Just thinking about Jane, the way he smiles at her, his blue eyes displaying just a hint of mirth paired with male appreciation sends shivers down her spine even when she's sweating from exertion.

She knows nothing good can come out of getting involved with a man who has the kind of baggage and dark side that Patrick Jane does, but around him, she seems to lose all sense of self-preservation and common sense.

It's not just his smile, she reasons, it's his entire demeanor when he is around her.

On several occasions, he has proven that her well being matters to him. He prides himself on being detached and aloof, but Lisbon knows deep down that he cares, on what level she isn't sure, but it's enough to keep her interested.

Lisbon knows from experience that a woman should never invest in changing a man, hell she's made that mistake herself several times and it caused her more heartache than necessary, but she also can't help herself around him.

At work, she can handle him. She can hide behind her professional façade, roll her eyes when appropriate, smile nonchalantly at his witty comments, and reciprocate his banter. However, when they're alone, and all her work armor is removed, she finds that Teresa Lisbon the woman has a hard time resisting Patrick Jane's charms, despite how rational she might be.

He strips her defenses without trying and it frightens her, but it also makes her more attracted to him, because it's been a long time since someone lit the spark inside her the way Jane does, leaving her body and mind reeling just from a touch on her cheek or a curious glance that promises so much more.

Everything is more complicated, because despite his obvious attraction to her, Teresa can't figure out what exactly Jane wants, if he wants anything at all, because with him everything is game and although she's a willing competitor, she isn't sure of the rules.

Thoughts of the enigmatic blonde man distract her for a while, but when she stops to tie her shoe, a wretched scream breaks through the music blaring in her ears.

She rips off the headphones and launches toward the direction of the noise, already in work mode before she even knows what's wrong.

The scene would surely make an average jogger run far away and purge their breakfast, but Teresa doesn't even flinch when she sees the dead body, not anymore than the dog sniffing the unnaturally twisted leg as his owner tries unsuccessfully to contain her nausea.

"My dog…he…oh god, he just led me here." The elderly woman tries to explain and Teresa places a comforting hand on her shoulder.

"It's alright, ma'am. I'm with the California Bureau of Investigation, everything will be okay."

The lady nods, while Lisbon pulls out her cell phone, giving her coordinates and badge number to the dispatcher, who will notify her team that they have a dead body in the park.

She also requests back up, pulling off her head phones completely and stuffing the IPOD in her shorts' pocket.

The woman who found the body looks positively green, but before Lisbon can calm her down and ask the initial questions, she speed dials a familiar number.

There's one more call left to be made.

XXX

A murder has occurred in the last 24 hours and there's a dead body within a few feet of him, but all Jane can focus on are _legs_.

Particularly, a certain supervising agent's legs, toned, tanned, and completely exposed to the ogling eyes of every single male in the vicinity.

Suppressing a twinge of possessiveness, Jane tries to tear his eyes away from Lisbon, but it's impossible.

She looks positively radiant and unapologetically feminine.

If he thought seeing her in just a jersey was bad, this is so much worse.

The blue track shorts should be illegal, exposing as much skin as they do, and that tiny, white wife beater should be deemed as indecent as beachwear, because it does nothing but fuel his fantasies of what is underneath.

The blonde consultant doesn't even realize he is staring until Cho breezes by him casually and murmurs under his breath,

"Never would've pegged you for a Peepin' Tom, Jane."

And Patrick snaps out of his reverie, finally moving his attention to the twisted and bloodied body of a blonde woman propped up against a tree.

He doesn't even blink an eye as he approaches the scene of the crime, surveying the vicinity for anything that might be useful. The intent to search for clues is so consuming, Jane doesn't even feel her approach until she speaks,

"So, see anything you like?" Lisbon peers over his shoulder and he turns around, giving her an unabashed once over.

"Hi." He says softly, in that low voice of his that makes goose bumps spread all over her body.

When he looks at her up close, he really thinks she's trying to kill him. There's a faint blush on her cheeks from the morning run and her hair is pulled up haphazardly, giving her the disheveled look Jane secretly prefers on her.

Instead of looking put together, Lisbon is absolutely glowing in disarray and he wants nothing more than to go back to that night a few days ago at her apartment and kiss her senselessly.

Screw propriety and rationality.

"Sorry, it's pretty early to call you in-…"

"Nonsense, you know I like a good challenge in the morning." He waves her off, turning his attention back to the mangled woman.

"Anything you can tell me, besides the obvious?" Lisbon presses on, crouching over the body on the other side, facing Jane now.

He smiles at her, thinking how typical it is for her to still retain the highest degree of professionalism in gym clothing, at six thirty in the morning, and especially on her day off.

XXX

Its cases like this that get under his skin and leave a bitter aftertaste.

When there seems to be no explanation and no motive for the brutal taking of a life, that's when it hits Jane even more that people like Red John exist in numbers far greater than he would like.

They are even more dangerous than his personal nemesis, because they're inconspicuous. They are usually average people who don't plan to commit murder let alone a series of them, but when they do strike, driven by uncontrolled and irrational emotion, they become the most dangerous of killers.

People guided by feelings and obsessions, manipulated by illogical thoughts, are the worst.

Although Jane prides himself on being fueled by vengeance, during cases like this, deep inside he's terrified of becoming as cold blooded and ruthless as the man who spent more time fixated on Van Pelt's cleavage than his written confession.

He had been Sarah Evans' roommate's boyfriend in college, but they never kept in touch, until an accidental meeting in a coffee shop two weeks ago brought back what the team realized to be an unhealthy obsession Scott Matthews had with the victim.

He had no trouble confessing to the murder and when asked why he did it, the dark haired man just shrugged and replied, his eyes trained on Grace,

"I remembered how beautiful she was, then saw the ring on her finger, and realized she was taken. I couldn't really let her get away with it, could I?"

He'd been calmer then most confessing suspects, which led Jane to believe the young man was more troubled than he let on.

However, after Matthews' vivid description of how he had followed the former track star on her morning jog, and gave her a chance to redeem herself by telling him she loved him, then bashed her skull into the nearest tree after she refused, Jane decided he had no more sympathy for that man then he would for Red John when he caught him.

Now, as Jane lies on the couch in the bullpen, carefully listening to everyone's movements with his arm thrown over his eyes, his mind fixates on what bothers him the most about this case.

Lisbon.

Initially, she began the investigation with her usual air of calm and deduction; however, as more facts began to accumulate, Lisbon retreated more and more into herself, internalizing emotions that would usually be written all over her face.

Jane could see through her powerful attempts at masquerading how much the case was affecting her, but for the life of him he could not pinpoint exactly why the death of Sarah Evans elicited such a powerful reaction from his supervising agent.

Sure, Sarah and she had a lot in common, background wise.

Both Berkeley graduates, both from single-parent homes, the oldest of several siblings.

Beyond that, Jane could not figure out why Lisbon seemed so unlike herself.

Every time they were alone, he could almost feel the words at the tip of her tongue, but they were constantly interrupted, with the team working around the clock to put together enough evidence to isolate the killer.

Despite any personal issues she maybe be struggling with, as soon as Matthews is taken into custody and the rest of the team goes home, Lisbon makes herself a cup of herbal tea, no doubt due to his attempts to wean her off caffeine, and settles in her office for some paperwork.

Being mindful of her goals, Jane gives her an hour before he gets up to head to her office.

However, the senior agent surprises him when she walks out into the bullpen, purse and jacket in tow, shutting the lights off just as he stands up.

She gives him a brief glance, before pulling on her coat and turning around,

"Good night, Jane." Lisbon mumbles, "I'll see you tomorrow."

She walks away then, but Jane doesn't let her go very far,

"Lisbon, wait." He catches up with her at the elevator, placing a soft hand on her shoulder.

He frowns when she stiffens under his touch, but doesn't pay much attention to it.

Her side glance tells him everything.

She's beyond exhausted, he's sure, pulling all nighters will do that you, but there's something more in her eyes.

She wants him to stay, she wants to tell him what's wrong, but she doesn't know how.

She's so out of practice with opening up to anyone, telling anyone how she feels, that seeing his concerned eyes, his body so warm and protective besides her, makes Lisbon want to burst into tears and never stop crying.

Yet, she doesn't say anything, not in the elevator ride, and not when they approach their cars, parked side by side in the virtually empty garage.

"Thanks for walking me out." She says uncertainly, looking down at the ground, afraid that if she looks him in the eye the emotions she's fighting so hard to keep in check will overpower her and the flood gates will open.

This is the first time since her fabricated "breakdown" that she truly feels close to losing it, can honestly relate to the_ lies_ she threw at her therapist to get him to slip up.

"Teresa."

Her head snaps up at the mention of her name and she knows from the unexpected look in his blue eyes that he can see the film of unshed tears blurring her vision.

He was there for her when she needed him during the set up and he's here now and it doesn't escape her that of all the people in her life, Patrick Jane is the only one who she wants beside her while she's like this.

She wants _his_ hand on her shoulder and _his_ worried gaze sending chills down her spine, but most importantly she wants _him_.

Just the way he is.

Complicated, stubborn, childish, unruly, sarcastic, and the most perceptive man she's ever met.

It doesn't hurt that he looks like a God carved out of ivory, homage to the way men used to look in mythology, punctuated by piercing blue eyes and a masculinity that has her thinking indecently in spite herself.

"I know you're not okay." Jane says in an uncharacteristically quiet voice, "but you will be. All you need is a good night's sleep, okay?"

"I don't want to go home."

Their eyes meet in the gloominess of the faintly lit garage, but he can tell the myriad of emotions ready to burst any second. He also sees danger in her green eyes, a look of desperation that shouldn't be there.

"Where do you want to go then?" He asks, silently promising to take her wherever she wants as long as he can keep the look of despair off her face.

"Anywhere," Lisbon murmurs, stuffing her keys into his palm, "Just drive."

XXX

They drive for what feels like hours.

The scenery flashes by her so quickly; it all becomes one sheet of blackness punctuated occasionally by oncoming car lights.

Jane steals frequent glances at her, but Lisbon chooses to ignore it, not yet ready to acknowledge what is happening.

The last couple of days have been complete and utter hell as each detail she discovered about Sarah Evans' life seemed to echo a part of her painful past, even when there appeared to be no obvious connection.

She'd immersed herself in the case, fighting tooth and nail to catch the killer, only to find that there really was no logical explanation to her murder. If Sarah hadn't walked into that coffee shop and reacquainted with Matthews, she would still be alive and something about that just didn't sit well with the brunette.

Teresa Lisbon believes in justice, in karma, in everything happening for a reason, and usually she can draw from her pool of moral resource and ethical wisdom to extract some understanding and meaning from each case she closes.

But just like she can never find a reason for why her mom was so rudely torn away from her family, Teresa can't fathom any explanation for what happened to Sarah.

Thinking about the case brings her back to the present, and she glances over at Jane, realizing he is the prime example of bad things happening to good people.

He'd lost his way years ago and still blames his family's death on his arrogance and ego; and yes, perhaps his showmanship and thirst for praise had something to do with Red John's motivation, but ultimately it wasn't Jane who killed two innocent people, it was Red John.

Her heart suddenly constricts for an entirely different reason, and before she can stop herself, her hand covers the one resting over the clutch.

Jane doesn't look at her but for the remainder of the drive, he keeps his hand wrapped around hers, periodically giving it a gentle squeeze, letting her know in his own way that he's right besides her and isn't going anywhere.

She almost doses off when the car pulls up into a clearing and the first thing she sees is stars…millions and millions of stars against the dark blue backdrop of the sky.

She literally sucks in her breath.

"It's beautiful," Lisbon murmurs, staring out the window as Jane cuts the engine, "how did you find this place, where are we?"

Her inquires make Jane smile and he tenderly brushes his thumb over her knuckle,

"I used to come here sometimes…" His voice trails off as he watches her, "it's just a few miles out of the city, but it feels like all of Sacramento is in the palm of your hand, doesn't it."

Lisbon looks at him then, sees the nostalgic smile on his face, the faraway look in his eye and she just nods, not really knowing what else to say.

Her heart aches for him as she envisions Jane spending hours in this very spot, blaming himself for everything that had gone wrong, cursing his psychic abilities, his need for the spotlight, and his mockery of Red John.

It makes her problems seem very small and she suddenly feels uncomfortable even talking anymore. Her shoulders stiffen and she almost wants to pull her hand away…

"I know what you're thinking, Lisbon and trust me." He stops, his eyes searching hers out, "whatever is bothering you, it's just as important. You haven't rolled your eyes at me once today."

And he's back to his old playful self again.

The armor is put strategically in place and it's strangely comforting, because Lisbon can handle the aggressive, sarcastic, and slightly facetious consultant Jane, but not the vulnerable, difficult to reach Jane, who seems to be emerging quite often as of late.

"I've just been too distracted with this case, but I promise I'll make an extra effort to be annoyed by you come Monday." She quips back, hoping her response will quell his uncertainty about her well being.

It doesn't, but Jane is not the type to push when it comes to her and they elapse into a pleasant silence, still holding hands, the warmth too comforting to lose.

Teresa closes her eyes, trying to block out everything she's feeling, clear her mind, let herself indulge in the company of the man besides her, but her thoughts don't give her respite.

Images from her past swirl in her head, flashbacks of her brothers crying, her father yelling, her mother's funeral, all jumbled together, until she can't take it anymore.

Suddenly, she's desperate for oxygen and pushes the car door open, letting the cool summer air fill her lungs as she leans against the SUV, trying to keep the tears at bay.

Jane is besides her in a second, this time notions of personal space and professional decorum the last thing on his mind as he rests both hands on either side of her face and searching for a semblance of lucidity in her eyes.

His breath tickles her cheek and Lisbon manages to calm down long enough to be overwhelmed by the amount of concern and panic swimming in his eyes.

He looks positively startled and she has to smile at the lack of composure the usually suave mentalist displays.

It's then that she realizes the depth of his feelings for her, lurking behind the evident worry in his eyes.

It's just as much a moment of vulnerability for Jane as it is for her, but instead of it overwhelming and suffocating her, it gives her a sense of clarity, a moment of understanding and peace so deep, Lisbon does the only thing that seems logical.

The first touch of her lips sends his mind into a tailspin. Sensations he hasn't experienced a long time send spindles of pleasure through his entire body, even though his mind can't fathom what is happening.

She pulls back abruptly, ready to apologize for her hastiness, but when she sees his cobalt eyes glaze over with desire, she knows she's done something they can't take back.

There's a brief moment of hesitation, but when the shock fades, Jane draws her closer, wraps his arm around her waist, and pulls her into an incredible slow, mind numbing kiss.

He slips his hands inside her jacket, caressing her sides, devouring her mouth like a man drowning of thirst.

The fluidity and ease of their movements doesn't surprise him.

He's always known somehow, someway that she would be the perfect fit for him, body and soul.

The perfect fit for the way he is now.

She's the only one who can challenge him and care about him the way that he needs.

Lisbon melts into his embrace, reveling in the strength and enormity of his body pinning her to the car. She feels safe and cared for and incredibly turned on.

In just a few short moments, Teresa learns that Patrick Jane kisses with his entire body.

He doesn't use just his lips or his tongue or his hands, but all of it, all together to pull her under his spell, make her sigh into the kiss, oscillate between her need for oxygen and her need for him.

When he buries his hand wrist deep in her hair and playfully nips at her bottom lip, Lisbon isn't sure she cares much for breathing anymore.

Her scent intoxicates him. His senses are aware of her softness, her warmth, the incredible way she fits right into his arms and the passion in her kisses.

It seems like forever and he doesn't want it to stop.

He wants to lose himself in this woman, having finally given in and being no longer afraid, he wants more.

His desire for her becomes so overpowering, he has to pull back, otherwise he won't be able to stop and the incredibly brave and compassionate brunette evoking all sorts of feelings in him doesn't deserve that.

He's told her before he'd never seduce her over a meal and this scenario goes along with that.

When it happens, it will be perfect, because Teresa Lisbon deserves nothing less.

Reluctantly, Lisbon breaks the kiss, but finds that Jane doesn't go very far.

Instead of pulling away, he leans in further, his hand still around her waist while the other rests besides her head.

He places soft kisses on her neck and his breath sends goose bumps down her body, awakening nerve endings that have been dormant for far too long.

She's not sure what to expect now.

She made the move and she doesn't regret it, but she's terrified, because there's still so much more beyond them to consider.

Not just their jobs, but everything else.

She's acutely aware of how his wedding ring catches the moonlight, sparkling in her line of vision.

There's a weight in her chest now but she hangs on to the man in her arms desperately, trying not to think of the worst possible outcome. After all he still hasn't looked at her or said anything and who knows if he could be drowning in guilt and hating himself.

Lisbon would never forgive herself for that.

However, when she tries to speak, Jane looks up and before she can muster a syllable, he places his finger on her lips and smiles at her,

"Just don't say anything," He whispers, kissing the corner of her mouth, smiling against her cheek, "words will ruin it."

And she listens, settling in his arms and understanding from the steady rhythm of his heart and the way he lovingly strokes her hair, that Jane doesn't regret anything.

And all of the sudden Teresa realizes something that's been apparent all along.

Jane is no longer an opponent in this tug-o-war they keep playing.

And it's damn good to have him on her side...


	5. Part V: Almost Human

**Running Through Red Lights**

Disclaimer: Don't own anything…Lyrics by Rob Thomas.

Rating: M

Spoiler: Red Badge

A/N: My boyfriend surprised me with tickets to the Rob Thomas show this past weekend and several of his songs totally inspired this chapter! Thank you for all your wonderful reviews because they sure didn't hurt the quick update.

XXX

Part V: Almost Human

_"Cause sometimes we don't really notice  
Just how good it can get  
So maybe we should start all over  
Start all over again..."_

XXX

Despite how uncomfortable she is, Lisbon doesn't want to move.

A light breeze is playing with her hair, the sun is shining brightly, and even the air seems fresher somehow.

She wants to blame it on the full night's rest or something equally inane, but when she looks up, she know the tranquility she feels can only be attributed to one man.

The one sleeping in what appears to be a very discomforting position in the backseat of her car. The light hits his features at a perfect angle, highlighting everything about his face that has recently begun to make her toes curl and her body shiver.

She isn't sure when these feelings started to develop, but she's now certain that she can't run from them.

Not after the night before, not after she let her guard down just for a moment, and was sweetly rewarded by kisses that were still making her body tingle.

She's afraid to move, because she doesn't want Jane to wake up. He's a light sleeper, but for now appears to be in deep slumber and Lisbon thinks the slightest movement will force them both to disentangle from each other, which she's not quite ready for.

So she relaxes again, letting the warmth of being in Patrick Jane's arms take over again.

She traces the buttons on his vest; thinking how she's always wanted to feel the softness of the material, just never thought she'd have the opportunity to do it.

It should scare her that she's so enthralled by every aspect of his man, but it doesn't.

It's as if the night before, with his attentiveness and concern for her, the blonde consultant broke the last barrier Lisbon had against him and now she's at his mercy and finds herself liking it.

She enjoys that he gets worried about her, wants to make her smile, and always in his own way he thinks of her whenever they're at a crime scene.

She never noticed it before, but it's interesting how much a person can miss when they fixate on one aspect, and now as she thinks about it, everything over the last few months has made complete and utter sense.

His lingering on the couch until she was ready to go home almost every night.

His creative apologies for his antics on the job, his flirty glances, all culminating in one realization.

She trusts him, she always has. She was just always afraid to face the possibility and after everything that happened last night, the kiss, the conversation, the way she'd let him hold and lull her to sleep, it all emphasizes just how much she in fact trusts the man lying besides her.

Even if it took a near break down to make her realize it.

He spent several hours in a cramped backseat of an SUV dead to the world and it is testament to the comfort the woman in his arms instills in him.

Jane rarely sleeps through the night anymore, but somehow with the vivacious brunette peacefully slumbering with her limbs wrapped around him, he doesn't care about the car door biting into his back or the unnatural position of his legs, because she's sleeping, she's calm, and she's not erratic anymore.

That's all he really needs for a few hours of rest.

Despite that, he's still a very light sleeper so when Teresa wakes up, no matter how careful she wants to be, he opens his eyes, his sight adjusting to the bright sunshine beaming through the car window.

He wants to stretch or pull her closer, but for some reason his body is paralyzed.

He remains still, waiting to see what she will do, already realizing she has no plans in shifting or doing anything that would give her away.

However, when her small fingers reach out and finger the button on his vest, the urge to take her hand in his and give her a proper good morning, becomes overwhelming.

He doesn't let himself dwell too much on the previous night, over the enormity of it, the extent to which he knows it will undoubtedly change things between them.

He doesn't want to confront the doubt in the back of his head that reminds him of the journey he still has to complete, the one that is never far from his conscious, even with Teresa by his side.

He doesn't want to think about how much his obsession with Red John can ultimately drive a wedge between them.

All he wants to do is run his fingers through her hair and pull her closer, letting her know that he doesn't regret a single second of their night spent together and if he had to do it all over again, he'd only kiss her sooner.

The first touch of his fingertips against her cheek makes Lisbon flinch and he feels a heat spread on her skin that makes him smile.

He knows she doesn't like to be caught off guard, but man is it a pleasure of his to see the slightly annoyed but amused look on her face when he does something unexpected.

"Hi." She says almost bashfully, meeting his eyes with anything but annoyance.

"Beautiful morning," Jane smiles, his hand still stroking her cheek, "isn't it?"

"The best," Lisbon murmurs, before snuggling further into his chest, inhaling the remnants of cologne on his clothes.

Jane has to physically restrain himself from mounting her when she stretches against him, and as if sensing the tension building, Teresa slowly slides off of him, sitting up.

It doesn't really quell his desire, because as soon as he clearly sees her, sleepy green eyes, hair curling slightly at the ends, the shirt she's wearing riding up just the perfect amount, he wants nothing more than to kiss her again, and maybe do other things.

Lisbon feels his eyes on her, and feels a strange sense of empowerment. After her revelation, it feels like every move Jane makes is just a confirmation of what she's known all along and it gives her a strange sense of anticipation and comfort, knowing she hadn't thrown her heart out on the line for nothing; hadn't butchered a slightly dysfunctional but very effective working relationship for a few kisses and a peaceful night of sleep.

"You okay?" He asks, voice laced with genuine concern.

"Yeah, I am." Lisbon nods, her hand reaching out to squeeze his, "I honestly haven't slept so well in weeks, maybe months."

Her admission should be difficult, but it's not.

Her honesty earns Lisbon a wide smile, the one only reserved for her, paired with a mischievous glint in his blue eyes.

He leans forward until they're face to face and she automatically sucks in her breath.

Everything about him intoxicates her, even up close, now that she's had a taste of him, has learned what it's like to kiss and be kissed by Patrick Jane, she only wants more and as his gaze stops at her mouth, she already prepares herself for his soft lips,

"You know what would make this even better?" Jane murmurs, watching as she's almost hypnotized by his soft voice and warm breath against her face,

"A really good breakfast, I'm starved."

And just like that, her eyes grow wide, her lips form into a mock frown, and she playfully shoves him, "Damn it, Jane."

He laughs heartily as Lisbon tries to hide her embarrassment, but she just shakes her head, "that wasn't fair." She admits, running her hands through her hair,

"If you think I'm not being fair, take a look at yourself, woman, before you start making accusations."

And then he has her blushing again from the subtle compliment.

Others might miss the innuendo in his voice, but with his cerulean look trained on her, admiring everything about her in a glance, Lisbon can't blame herself for squirming and blushing like a teenage girl.

Patrick Jane has many talents and one of them is that he can almost always get a rise out of the cool and calm supervising agent.

"Does this mean I can't drive?" Jane asks, putting on his best groveling face.

Its Teresa's turn to laugh, as she slips out of the car leaving the door open for him, "not a chance in hell, Jane."

"I guess I'll have to increase my powers of persuasion." He says cheekily, but Lisbon is already behind the wheel when he moves to the front,

"You can definitely try." She replies back and Jane doesn't miss the flirty look in her eye.

"Oh I intend to."

He promises before sliding his hand in hers.

XXX

She's just about to take the lasagna out of the oven when there's a knock on the door.

She sets the dish onto the stove and peddles over to the front door, opening to find Jane leaning against her doorframe, a paper bag in his hand.

He looks at her briefly, before a smile spreads over his face,

"Your casual attire is killing me." The blond man says by way of greeting and Teresa rolls her eyes, despite the heat spreading to her cheeks.

"Well, hello to you too Patrick, would you like to come in?" She quips back, trying to act nonchalant, even though the temperature in the room seems to have risen since he stepped inside.

"No, seriously, first that damn jersey, now this?" He gestures to the shorts and tank top she's wearing.

"Would you like me to change?" She settles her hand on her hip and cocks her eyebrow at him, but he just shakes his head and approaches her slowly.

"Don't you dare," Jane says in a low voice and finds immense pleasure in seeing the special agent shiver beneath his gaze.

He settles his hands on her hips then, liking the way Lisbon's hands automatically recline against his chest, fingering the lapels of his jacket gently.

It's nice to know his clothing inspires just as much curiosity in her as her lack of attire does in him.

"You're seriously torturing me, woman." Jane murmurs against her neck, trailing his lips to the hollow of her throat.

Teresa lets out something akin to a moan, but she can't be sure, considering how recently any contact with the blonde consultant has her head spinning and her thoughts in disarray.

"Maybe I should make you feel better then," She suggests, her eyes boring into his as she raises on her tiptoes and captures his mouth in a kiss.

It's been about two weeks since the night they spent asleep in the back of her SUV, and between work and other obligations they haven't spent as much time together as either of them would like.

He always waits for her to finish at work, walk her to her car, sometimes makes playful comments or leaves lingering touches that intimate a change in their relationship, but nothing has come close to the intimacy Lisbon is feeling right now.

It occurs to her that she missed this, missed kissing him and just being around him without the weight of work obligations.

Although she's slightly worried things might be intensifying too quickly, Teresa indulges in the soft way his tongue traces her lower lip and the way his hands create delicate trails of fire across her skin, through the material of her tank top.

Jane eventually releases her and rests his forehead against hers, "I missed you too," He announces and she shakes her head again, loose curls framing her face,

"I didn't even say anything."

"You were thinking it though."

Teresa just smiles, moving away from him and to the kitchen, hips sashaying as he watches her saunter into the other room.

For the first time since coming in, Patrick smells the rich aroma coming from the kitchen and smiles in triumph when he realizes his mentalist abilities haven't failed him once again.

He so knew she was making dinner for herself.

"Hope you like lasagna." Lisbon calls from the kitchen and he just smiles,

"I wouldn't be human if I didn't."

She turns around then, giving him a bright grin and a wink, and Jane concedes that he also wouldn't be human if the vision in front of him didn't somehow warm his heart.

Despite the many beatings it has sustained.

They eat facing each other on the couch, sharing a plate between their laps.

It's messy and childish, but as Teresa feeds Jane bits of noodles, she cant help but think how easy all of this is.

Just a few weeks ago she was reluctant to let him see her apartment and had her reservations about the mock psychic hypnotizing her, but now it seems the newfound trust she has for him has made everything easier between them, lighter somehow.

Even his smile has less of an edge to it.

"What're you thinking about?" He asks in a quiet voice, his eyes watching her contemplation with calming ease.

She thinks he already knows what's on her mind but doesn't want to ruin the moment,

"Just wondering if you own anything other than three-piece suits, it does get hot here occasionally."

The teasing in her tone makes him laugh a little bit,

"Wouldn't you like to know?"

He says, but before she can reply, he puts the fork to her lips and finds that Teresa retaliates by wrapping her mouth around the utensil and running her tongue across her lower lip after she chews.

The entire time, her green eyes are trained on him and Jane thinks that eating lasagna has never been so exciting.

As much as both of them try to keep work out of the conversation, it doesn't turn out quite that way and they spend most of their dinner talking about the most recent case, bouncing ideas off each other while a bad reality television show plays in the background.

When Teresa hits upon a possible lead, he watches her entire body react to the prospect of catching a killer.

Her green eyes sparkle and she bites her lower lip in concentration, while sitting straight up with her naked legs crossed, as if inviting him to pull her closer.

He wonders if she realizes that the high and satisfaction she gets from her job are not unlike the rush he gets when a new possible lead on Red John materializes.

The idea makes him smile, because despite the sinister plans he has for the serial murderer and the fact that it could very well damage the delicate foundation of his relationship with the special agent at any moment, it gives Jane comfort to know they're really not all that different from each other.

Different method and intention, but the purpose all the same: catch the bad guy.

He's well aware they differ on a pretty big aspect, but in this moment, he doesn't care, because he's found another way to relate to the usually composed and put-together woman who currently has sauce on her chin.

He chuckles in spite himself and Teresa breaks out of her reverie,

"What are you laughing at?" she looks annoyed for a second and its reminiscent of their work relationship, but Jane reaches over and playfully licks the spot on her chin then crashes his mouth on hers, finally giving up the battle with self-restraint.

Teresa catches her breath, but welcomes his kiss and his sudden weight on top of her.

Her legs unconsciously fall apart and Jane settles between her hips, thinking only momentarily about the danger of their predicament.

He doesn't know if he can stop now, but the taste of her lips, the smell of her perfume, and how domestic this all is makes him not want to stop at all, not even consider the consequences of letting himself indulge too much in her company.

Jane's hands slide down from her hip to her bare thigh and the sensations he inspires in her threaten to snap all her self control. Each touch is like a lick of fire, warm, close to burning, but not quite.

It ignites delicious flames all over her body, making her react to his kisses more fervently, making the anticipation in her stomach intensify impossibly quickly.

Nevertheless, her rational side wins and Lisbon breaks the kiss, resting her forehead against Jane's as she rakes her fingers through his blond curls, having wanted to do that for god knows how long.

"You should come over for dinner more often." She breathes heavily against his lips and the blonde man closes his eyes, his unsuccessful dueling with control making her as giddy as a teenage girl.

There's something to be sad for making a composed and self assured man like Patrick Jane turn into a desire crazed bundle of hormones and Teresa takes infinite pleasure in seeing him squirm.

Eventually though he opens his eyes.

They're back to their impish cobalt shine and he gently moves away from her,

"You say that now and yet you still haven't inquired about the dessert I brought." He motions knowingly to the paper bag, neglected, sitting on the kitchen table.

"Dessert?" Her eyes go wide followed by genuinely goofy smile.

"Yeah, the chocolate kind." He winks at her, knowing full well how much of a guilty pleasure chocolate is for the supervising agent and she squeals uncharacteristically, jumping off the couch and opening the bag.

She smiles more profoundly when she sees the big slice of German chocolate cake looking very appealing from inside the clear container.

Lisbon is once again reminded that the man lounging on her couch like he belongs there knows a little more about her than she would usually like.

But then she looks up and sees the look of adoration on his handsome face and her fears of what the outside world might have in store for them dissipate just a little bit.

Just enough for her to retrieve a fork from the kitchen and peddle back to the couch, sinking the utensil into the cake and offering the first bite to her dinner partner.

When Jane accepts the dessert, its Teresa's turn to ponder on how Jane can turn eating into an art form, a very sensual art form at that.

She swallows and says,

"I thought you said you'd never seduce me over a meal."

Jane stops chewing and smirks, reaching over to tuck a loose strand of chestnut hair behind her ear,

"Who said anything about seduction, Teresa?" He leans over and gives her a bite of cake, "when I seduce you, and I plan to. Trust me, you won't be questioning it."

Usually, such a pompous comment would irritate the hell out of Lisbon, but when it's coming from Jane, it just makes the heat in her belly spread through her entire body. It's crazy that he can have her entire system on edge just from a few choice words, but he manages to accomplish it quite frequently.

It should bother her, but it doesn't, and all she does continue eating, albeit smiling playfully at him as she does.

They sit for a while in silence, sharing dessert as Jane flips through the channels, finally deciding on a black and white Civil War film.

The characters are interchangeable and the story lacks a substantial plot, but it reminds Patrick of his childhood, the incessant blaring of the television at all hours of the night as his mother sat transfixed in front of it, the only activity that seemed to subdue her bouts of insomnia.

Jane is so transfixed by the picture playing on the TV, Lisbon touches his shoulder gently, afraid to startle him.

He appears in a trance and the myriad of emotions playing on his face when he looks at her makes her frown, her mind racing through possibilities of what could trigger such a drastic mood change.

"You alright?" she asks softly, afraid to disturb the moment.

"Yeah, just thinking about how my mother used to love these types of movies."

He isn't sure why he admits it, why the prospect of opening up to Lisbon doesn't seem like such a scary or intimidating thought, but when the look of concern deepens on her face, Jane almost regrets it.

"Oh, well tell me about it. Did she have a particular favorite?"

She wants to ease into the conversation smoothly, knowing there are some things that are a forbidden topic of conversation for Jane.

Jane reaches out, his thumb brushing the apple of her cheek as she watches him,

"Maybe another time, okay?"

It kills him to deny her request, but he's terrified of unleashing something that took him a long time to accept.

He hopes she understands.

Lisbon nods, trying to internalize her disappointment, but Jane sees right through her and it kills him.

However, deciding that he has no right to use his abilities against her in this instance, he lets it go.

"How about I do the dishes then?"

She can't deny the smile playing on his lips and the warmth of his palm against her face,

"Well I should think you would, considering I slaved over dinner."

"Yeah, it's only fair." Jane replies sarcastically, rolling up his shirtsleeves as he walks into the kitchen.

However, before he can sink his hands into the warm, soapy water, his cell phone rings from inside his jacket.

Lisbon isn't sure what to think as he takes the call in the kitchen, speaking in hushed tones and hanging up quickly.

She never thought about Jane's life outside the CBI, what he did after he left work, who he socialized with.

Before, she can even contemplate; he turns his phone off and reaches for the vest draped across the back of the couch.

"I have to go." He says, not explaining any further and even though nothing has happened between them, watching him button up the vest and avoiding eye contact makes her feel cheap and she doesn't respond to him.

She stands up and heads into the kitchen, turning on the water to override the tension filled silence in the room.

Jane feels an overwhelming sense of guilt about his secrecy, but he knows he can't share this piece of his life with Lisbon yet.

He can't deny that her presence in his life, her constant support and risk taking on his behalf, has had a major influence on his recent decisions, but he can't let her in until he's certain that he won't hurt her.

The justification propels him forward, as he slips on his jacket and walks into the kitchen, pulling her against him gently, knowing she probably doesn't want to be coddled into understanding at this point.

"You gotta go." She says somewhat coldly, but Jane persists.

"I know, I wish I didn't have to, but it's something I have to take care of."

She turns around in his arms then, running her slightly soapy hands through his hair.

Jane doesn't mind.

"I don't really like secrets, Patrick."

She doesn't look him in the eye, just faces his chest, hoping her voice doesn't betray her worry.

Jane doesn't really know what to say, so he tilts her chin and pulls her into a kiss that leaves her lips tingling long after he leaves.

XXX

He parks his car next to the mammoth Range Rover occupying the second spot in front of the garage and shakes his head.

Male preoccupation with size amuses him more than anything, perhaps even more than Van Pelt's lackadaisical attempts at suppressing her attraction to Rigsby.

"Patrick! I'm glad you could make it."

The tall redhead in a slick black suit approaches Jane before he even exits the car.

"I know it's very late, but I thought you'd want to know that the owners accepted your offer and if you'll sign a few documents, the property is yours."

"That's wonderful, shall we?" Jane motions to the front door of the beach house, and his real estate agent fishes out the keys from his pocket.

"They've already moved out, so technically the place is ready for you now."

Jane doesn't say anything as they step into the house.

The real estate agent talks on and on about the advantages of acquiring such a home, but Jane just concentrates on the loopy signatures he makes on each of the required documents.

After reviewing the paperwork and making sure everything is settled, the man places a duplicate key on the counter and promises to call tomorrow with further details.

Jane lets his comments pass by without much thought, as he's left alone in the expansive place.

He wonders how it will be like to live in a home that doesn't have any remnants of his wife or daughter in it.

He wonders just how he'll survive not being able to see the markings on the kitchen wall from where he would mark his baby's height from the time she could walk.

Jane walks out onto the balcony, praying for respite from the memories, but when his wedding ring catches his eye, it gives him the sinking feeling that he might not ever let go of the past.

No matter how far he moves away, no matter how many times he tries to outsmart Red John, it feels like the guilt of his family's murder will always be his cross to bear, his burden and he isn't sure if he's strong enough to fight it anymore.

But when he closes his eyes, a flash of dark curls and green eyes runs through his mind…

And it feels like he can almost breathe again.


	6. Part VI: Broken

**Running Through Red Lights**

Disclaimer: Don't own anything…Lyrics by Dido.

Rating: M

Spoiler: Red Badge, Black Gold and Red Blood (this is a future episode and there's a brief description on about what happens. I have borrowed a scenario from the description, but it's my own interpretation so I doubt it'll be ruining anything for you guys.)

A/N: Uh, its midterm time and writing is the perfect relaxer for me. However, I've got some huge deadlines to meet so next update might be in about a week. Therefore, Happy Halloween to all of you and thank you very much for all your reviews, especially I'd like to thank those of you whom I can't private message. Thanks you guys!! Your reviews are appreciated.

XXX

Part VI: Broken

"_Oh I am what I am  
I do what I want  
But I can't hide…"_

XXX

She walks into the apartment and slams the door, doesn't bother to hang up her jacket, just dumps her things onto the couch before stomping into the kitchen, heels clicking on the linoleum in search of something that will take the edge off.

She's not much of a drinker, considering her first hand experience of alcohol's ramifications, but days like these are an exception.

She's just about to pop the top open from a bottle of red, when she has a flashback of Jane sitting on her couch, hand cupped around a wine glass, so she shoves the bottle to the back and opens her freezer.

Vodka it is.

It's only when she is nursing the low ball glass in her hand, taking occasional sips that her nerves settle enough for reality to sink in.

She will not cry.

She will not cry.

She will not drop a single tear over that egotistical, self-serving, vengeful jerk.

She always thought the only thing that could ever tear apart their relationship, both working and personal, was Red John, but not in this way, not _now._

She just can't believe he would betray her trust like that…again.

After so long working together and this new thing between them, she just thought…

"Damn it,"

The glass slams on the counter as an unpleasant shiver runs down her spine.

On her way home, she oscillated between the possibility that she was overreacting and that she was completely justified in her actions. However, now as she stands in her cold apartment, facing down a near empty glass of vodka, Lisbon realizes something that makes her cold from the inside.

She is stupid.

_Stupid, stupid, stupid_

For ever believing that this thing between them, whatever it is, would ever in any shape or form be enough to lessen his pursuit for retribution.

It's not.

_She's_ not enough and maybe she thought before that if something ever happened between them, things would change, _he_ would change.

Alas, she broke her own rules.

"_Never try to change a man, Teresa." _

Her mother used to say and god bless her was she right.

After a while, Lisbon feels the effects of the alcohol and before berating herself further for getting involved with a colleague, especially one with as many issues as her consultant, the brunette decides she needs a hot, relaxing bath.

She sets the low ball in the sink, and promises herself no more alcohol for the evening.

She's half way through unbuttoning her blouse when she hears a knock on the door.

It's so quiet, she can easily ignore it, but something in her heart tells her to answer the door.

She knows who it is and there's but a brief moment of hesitation, because as she's realized from today's events, she's definitely a glutton for punishment.

XXX

_That morning…_

"Jane…Patrick, stop that." She whispers, pressing her hands lightly against his chest, but her words fall on death ears.

The man in question is too busy drawing patterns of kisses on her neck, his hands pressing her hips against the side of his car, not at all concerned with the disapproving looks from people passing by.

"C'mon, we're in the middle of the street across from the court house, anyone can see us." She tries again, her voice slightly edgier now, because it's becoming increasingly difficult to fend of his advances and not lose herself in the light sweeps of his tongue against her skin.

"Oh please, live a little, Teresa." Jane murmurs against her skin, slightly inebriated by the alluring mix of her perfume and natural scent.

God, this woman is driving him crazy.

He relents only slightly, pulls back to look at his watch,

"Besides, it's way too early for all the bureaucrats to come out of hiding, give them thirty more minutes." The blonde consultant smirks but Lisbon just rolls her eyes.

"Uh, Patrick Jane, the nonconformist…"

Jane still holds her close, but she takes advantage of the space to take a sip of her latte.

They've been "dating" for a little over a month now, nothing really serious, just a few dinners here and there usually at her place; sometimes they'll drive out to their spot, talk for a while.

Mostly though, it's work.

It's her personal theory that criminals get more lonely and bitter closer to the holiday season, which is probably why she's spending most of November working 18 hour days.

Yet, she's not bitter about it, because most of her work time is spent chasing leads with her partner in crime, or so the blonde consultant has come to be.

She doesn't want to admit it, but somewhere in the depths of her mind she feels like they've grown stronger, that their personal relationship has only strengthened their professional one.

And it doesn't hurt that the man seems to know her triggers better than she does.

Sometimes a suggestive smile is all it takes to make her think impure thoughts and even though Jane usually knows when that crosses her mind, she's never embarrassed, because she's comfortable around him.

Sometimes, she gets an irrational fear that this is just the calm before the storm, but it's quickly wiped away by Jane's presence.

She knows, can see it in his eyes that the future scares him, but unsurprisingly he wants to relish the moment, just like he is now, smiling down at her as she sips the coffee he bought her before he picked her up this morning.

Another thing she loves about him is how subtle he is in his pampering.

He doesn't do extravagance, probably because he has a fear of gluttony, associated with his reckless past, but she's not the wine and dine type of girl, so it suits them.

It's weird.

She's never met a man who aggravates and pisses her off as much as Patrick Jane, but she's also never dated someone who compliments her so well.

And she kind of likes it.

Except when she's late,

"Damn, I gotta go."

She says, her tone more regretful than she would like.

It spurns Jane on, because he just pulls her closer and sighs against her hair.

Some times he can be such a child.

"I don't like when you're out of the office, it's boring," he whines a little and Lisbon rolls her eyes again, a fond smile playing on her lips.

"I'll be back later on, are you going to be good?" She asks teasingly, but catches her breath when his cerulean eyes grow dark, shamelessly giving her a look of pure male appreciation.

"Depends, what am I going to get as a reward?"

A distinct blush rises from her neck to her cheeks and Jane just chuckles; he loves to rile her up, especially because it distracts him from other things.

Like the fact that on court dates, Lisbon deviates from her usual work attire and slips into tight pencil skirts and soft white blouses, which will likely have him following her like a hormone crazed teenager all day at the office, rendering him completely useless.

Maybe, it's a good thing that she's off to testify, he can actually help out the rest of the team on this case they have going.

A man passes by them, giving Lisbon a very brief onceover and Jane feels a familiar twinge of possessiveness, so he pulls her in for a good bye kiss.

Lisbon falls into the embrace, letting her worry over everything else dissolve for a few short, mind numbing moments.

He tastes like mint and tea, smells like familiar cologne she can never identify, and the soft material of his suit all seem to paralyze her in place.

It's probably not very normal that he has her knees buckling at 8:30 on a Thursday morning, but for the duration of the kiss, she doesn't care.

It's only when she pushes him away that she's back to her usual, professional persona, a small smile on her lips as she straightens out her clothes, before grabbing her purse and blazer from the car.

"Try to stay out of trouble for one day, alright?"

She appears outwardly concerned, but there's a glint of mischief and mirth in her green eyes and Jane runs his hand affectionately down her cheek, "What's my incentive?"

Lisbon throws her head back and laughs, then wordlessly steps away and crosses the street to the court house.

She turns around one more time and winks at him.

As the early morning sun light bounces off her hair, making her look more vibrant than he's ever seen, the blonde consultant realizes she's all the incentive he needs.

XXX

She's pissed.

He doesn't need psychic abilities to figure it out.

Even the hillbilly cop that arrested him is avoiding eavesdropping on them, because he can see the fire blazing in her eye and the determined click of her heels.

He wants to tell her she's incredibly sexy, because she is, especially after being so flustered from anger, but for fear of being dismembered or shot from behind bars, Jane wisely keeps his mouth shut.

"Arrested?" Lisbon says through clenched teeth, stopping in front of his cell, her arms crossed over her chest,

"How is it possible that I leave you for one day, not even a whole one, and you manage to piss off someone enough to get arrested? I swear I need to get a goddamn leash for you."

Her words fall on deaf ears, as Jane continues to lie on the metal bench, using his expensive jacket as a pillow.

It unnerves her how calm he looks, hands resting on his stomach as he looks at the ceiling, as if he's back in the bullpen on his couch instead of a holding cell.

At least he got his own cell.

She can't even imagine the damage he would cause psychoanalyzing a bunch of criminals awaiting bail.

He seems so unperturbed it makes her more upset than angry.

She absolutely despises moments when she feels like she can't reach him.

It's no surprise that it's usually something that has to do with Red John.

Her resolve weakens slightly and she looks at him for a moment,

"Seriously Patrick, what were you thinking? You are off the case, we are off the case, you can't just do what you did."

"Yes I can." He counters, eyes still trained on the ceiling, because he knows if he looks at her, his façade will crack and he'll end up more broken and vulnerable than to begin with.

She shouldn't forget that he made his family a promise, which he intends to keep by whatever means possible.

Even if that means spying on Bosco and his team while they do a shit job of following leads.

"Why? Why can you? Why do you think you're such a goddamn exception?" Her voice is rising, but he still doesn't dare look at her.

He can sense the tension in her every move and look even from this far away, can feel the reverberation of her angry words bouncing off the walls of the cell.

Still he doesn't move, doesn't say a single word.

It seems futile to argue his point by now.

He knows if he looks at her, sees how much distress he's caused her, he might actually feel sorry for what he did, which is something he cannot face, because it would mean he feels guilt for doing something he's always planned to and that can't happen.

_It can't be._

He has only one goal and it has to be catching Red John.

She should know.

She must know that he cares for her, but that this has to come first, and he might not like it, but he cannot deviate off course.

He can't.

"You not only made a fool of yourself, Jane."

She sounds different now, less hurt in her voice, more of that hardened tone she uses with suspects,

"You also made a joke out of my team and me. You embarrassed me in front of Bosco and his unit, so thank you for showing me where your loyalties lie."

There's silence and he thinks she might leave, but when he lets himself take a look in her direction, she's still there, jade gaze trained on him, trying to conceal hurt.

"You're a good agent, Teresa. My actions do not reflect on you, but if they did, I don't really understand why Bosco's opinion of you would matter. Unless of course, there's some of that residual unrequited love left over from your days as his apprentice."

Each word feels like a stab to the chest.

She can pretty much tell he knows he's deliberately saying untrue things to hurt her, to make her go away, and as much as she doesn't want to give in to his demands, he's making it abundantly clear that he will handle all this himself.

Despite her desire to tell him he's being an idiot, everything about his false tranquility frustrates to the point that she no longer wants to fight him.

If he wants to rot in this cell until Bosco sees it fit to release him, then he can.

"Bosco's opinion is not what matters to me and you know it." She replies curtly, a last stitch effort to break through.

"Maybe, maybe not." Jane counters, suddenly sitting up and stretching slightly.

His flippant attitude makes Lisbon want to smack him, or in the very least wipe that smirk off his face.

"But, you can't say I didn't warn you."

"Warn me about what? That while I was testifying in court, you would grab the first opportunity you could to break into Bosco's office and try to make copies of the files he has on Red John, is that what you warned me about?"

"No, but this is a mere stepping stone for me. You know, you've always known that I'm going to stop at nothing to find him. Red John is mine."

Usually, his eyes invoke a sense of comfort, but now the icy blue stare just sends unpleasant goose bumps down her bare arms.

A small, regretful smile stretches her dry lips,

"Well, then I definitely won't stand in your way, but you should get comfortable where you are, because if you are successful, I will arrest you for murder. I won't hesitate."

Her eyes are ablaze; her voice is bitter and detached. She puts on such a convincing act, Jane almost believes her.

Actually, he does believe her.

He knows that while it might destroy her, she will arrest him if he gets what he wants.

He sighs, pressing his knuckles against the bench he's sitting on.

"Rules are rules, Lisbon. You live by them and I break them."

"Yeah, almost as good as you break trust."

And with one linger look, she's gone.

A few minutes of silence go by and then he's lying on his back again, staring at the ceiling.

It's going to be a long night.

XXX

Her nerves are still on edge and her hands are a bit unsteady when she walks into CBI headquarters.

She knows she should go home, getting any work done would be futile, but she has one stop to make.

She charges past her team, all three of whom including Cho, watch her with wide eyes as she glides past them, knowing which door she's about to knock on and expecting the mother of all confrontations.

The older detective opens the door himself, as if he's been expecting her,

"Lisbon."

"Bosco, a few words?"

He steps aside so she can walk in then closes the door.

The bald man opens his mouth, ready to defend his actions, but she just waves him off,

"You did the right thing, Sam."

He raises his eyebrows instinctively, but then softens, obviously not expecting her to concede so quickly.

It annoys her; because the man who taught her basically everything she knows about good honest police work should have more faith in her rationality.

Instead of being angrier at Jane for making her look bad, she hates that Bosco still can't look at her like an equal.

"I'd just come back from interviewing a potential witness, and found Jane in my office, all my files on Red John neatly stacked on the desk. I had to do something."

It's amusing to see someone of Bosco's stature and intellect resolve to excuses to defend his actions.

"Yeah, you could have called me though."

"Why?"

"Because, Sam. Jane is a member of my team; I should have found out you arrested him from you, not Van Pelt. I think you owe me that much respect."

She crosses her arms and leans against his desk.

"This is not about respect, Teresa. When are you going to realize that Jane is not a part of your team? At least he doesn't think so. What kind of respect is he showing you if the first chance he gets, he satisfies his self-interest. He wasn't thinking about you when he was here, why are you thinking about him now?"

She isn't sure what hurts more.

The fact that what he's saying makes perfect sense or that even Bosco can tell what's going on.

"Don't make this personal, Sam." The brunette agent speaks defensively, but the older man just sighs, as if he's as tired as she is.

Impossible.

"Don't make this personal? My god, Teresa you make this personal every time you bail that fraud out of trouble. Can't you see that he cares nothing for protocol or rules? Can't you?"

She knows what Bosco's really saying is "can't you see that he doesn't care about you?"

But she's had enough.

"I've heard it all before, Sam. Trust me. This isn't about Jane though. This is about the lack of respect I got from you, what does that say about you as a professional?"

"Don't bring my badge into this, if you want to discuss secrecy, tell me why I should have notified you when you didn't even bother letting me in on your plan to out your psychiatrist."

Her mouth drops, she almost wants to laugh.

It's ridiculous really, the sheer amount of male egos she's surrounded by.

"So is this some sort of payback?" She narrows her eyes at him suspiciously, but Bosco remains cool as a cucumber, probably from years of stone-faced interrogations.

"No, and I don't like that you think of me as that petulant."

"Oh please, you can't deny it gave you overwhelming joy to cuff Jane and here you are riding your high horse, when really this is just a battle driven by ego and testosterone. You could have handled it differently. You could have called me, could have notified Minelli, but you didn't, so please don't tell me Jane is the only one on a personal witch hunt alright?"

Seeing the shocked look on her former mentor's face, she feels her heart beat faster then ever before.

Over the years, Bosco and she have had a turbulent relationship, but an all out confrontation, laced with so many unsaid things is a first for them.

As he stands with his mouth opening and closing, searching for a response, Lisbon feels the weight of everything that's happen begin to sink in and she knows if she doesn't get out of there, she might actually break down.

"I have to go." She says in a small voice, so different from the preaching declaration from moments before.

"Teresa, I-" Bosco reaches out to place his hand on her shoulder, but Lisbon shakes it off.

"Save it, I'll see you tomorrow."

Then she leaves his office, walks right passed the bullpen, not even noticing her team's poor attempts at pretending not to eavesdrop as she pushes back all thoughts of Jane all alone in a prison cell.

XXX

"Did you escape?" She asks as soon as she flings open the door.

Jane can tell by the expression on her face that if he doesn't play his cards right, he might not even make it inside the apartment.

"What? Lisbon, you wound me." He replies, placing his hand on his chest as he leans against her door frame.

Damn him and his sexy smirk.

"I'm serious, Jane. If you escaped, I refuse to be an accessory; I'm not hiding you from Bosco." She quips back, arms crossed over her chest. That's when he notices her shirt is half unbuttoned and there's a color in her cheeks.

He frowns immediately.

"You're either trying to throw off my skills of keen perception or you've got a man upstairs." Jane says, his tone betraying his calm exterior.

Lisbon looks awestruck by his suggestion, and then seeing the way his eyes darken, clearly not pleased with the prospect of someone being in her bedroom, laughs openly.

Jane raises his eyebrow and slides past her, shutting the door.

"You're a piece of work you know that." She murmurs, amused beyond measure.

Lisbon takes comfort in the easy way they always seem to bounce back to their old selves after a disagreement.

"So why are you so flushed, hmm?"

He stands around the room, glaring at his surroundings suspiciously with his hands on his hips, and all she wants to do is throw her arms around him and tease him mercilessly for typical male behavior.

However, there's still a less full bottle of vodka in her freezer and she still had a nasty dispute with her perfectly rational coworker over Jane's antics. Most importantly she still feels that tiny, perhaps irrational, twinge of betrayal every time she looks at him, so instead of gratifying his question with an answer, she deflects,

"Are you going to tell me how you got out or are we going to have to wait for the police sirens?"

"I did not escape, dear Lisbon. I promise."

"Oh c'mon Jane, be serious. Tell me, did you hypnotize Agent Brody into giving you the keys to the cell?"

"No I considered it but then one of Bosco's agents came in and released me."

"What?"

She's not sure if he's playing some game with her, but she doesn't like it.

"Yeah, I came here to thank you. Whatever you said to Bosco worked like a charm."

The smile on his face is sincere and grateful, but Lisbon just stands completely shocked, then her jaw clenches.

"I didn't go talk to him to bail you out; I still think he did the right thing."

"I don't believe that,"

Jane counters, taking a few steps to approach her.

Instinctively, she backs away,

"Believe it. You should have spent the night, learned what it's like."

"Wouldn't have changed anything, I'm not going to stop."

He says it so nonchalantly, she just wants to scream, rip her hair out, do something to get a rise out of him, make him see just how unnerving it is that he is so calm about this.

"You've made it abundantly clear. Can you go now?"

"I came to say thank you."

"You're not welcome, can you please leave?"

"Do you really want me to go?"

His voice is soft and he's walking towards her in a predatory way very rarely attributed to the man who approaches even the most twisted of suspects with a pretense of calm.

His look is anything but hardened and his body is inching closer to hers, bringing with it promises of all the things she's been craving after such a stressful day.

But she refuses to give in; it's his fault she's been through an emotional rollercoaster.

"It occurred to me while I was a captive man," Jane begins when Lisbon doesn't say anything for a while,

"Something good did come out of this whole debacle."

"Oh really? Please enlighten me, because as I see it, you embarrassed the unit and yourself."

"You trust me." He interrupts her rant.

"What?"

Lisbon looks at him with a confused expression and Jane smiles, closing the space between them and brushing a lock of hair from her face,

"You said before you left that I break rules almost as well as I break trust, which means you trust me."

Lisbon frowns,

"Trusted, Jane. Past tense."

She moves away from him again,

"I don't believe that." He whispers, already breaching the distance between them,

"You should."

She runs her tired hand across her face and in a moment of vulnerability, the blond consultant feels a stab of guilt for a reason that has nothing to do with his quest for vengeance.

For the first time, Jane notices how exhausted Lisbon is, how her eyes seem duller, hurt radiating from them, shoulders slumped, signifying impending defeat.

He knows if he makes a few more choice comments she will crumble in his arms simply because she's so tired of holding it all together, but out of respect, he doesn't budge, doesn't move to comfort her.

He doesn't want to be the reason why she needs a crutch, even though he usually is.

"I can't be sorry for what I did. I've told you over and over again what my plans are, what I intend to do, and for me Bosco is just a minor obstacle, easily removed."

He doesn't mean to sound so detached and as he speaks, he can feel her falling further away from him.

With every word, she straightens up more and more, and she looks him more directly in the eye, a worthy competitor and not backing down anymore.

"That's the thing with you; you view everyone either as an asset or as a detriment. None of us mean anything to you. The job means absolutely nothing to you and therefore, your disregard for rules comes so easily-…"

"You're wrong, Teresa. You do mean something to me. We both know that."

"No," She shakes her head, "no, no we don't. At least I don't. If you cared, even a fraction, you would have talked to me first-…"

"You would've stopped me."

"Hell yea I would, it was stupid what you did. It would never have given you what you needed. You did it because you were desperate Jane, and it only pushed you further away from your goal."

She can see the weight of her words passing through his seemingly impervious façade.

He runs a hand through his curls and this time she's not even distracted by their dark golden hue, in fact his appearance is the last thing on her mind as she watches him struggle with a response.

In some ways, it's a personal triumph to see that she's finally gotten some sort of reaction out of him, but the aftermath is heartbreaking.

Getting thrown in jail and threatened with a permanent suspension doesn't faze him, but a few words from her are making him into a nervous wrack.

It's nice to see some of the power imbalance shift, but the part of her that aches for him, wants him to be better hates this, hates that his past keeps getting in the way of their future.

"I don't know what you want me to say."

He looks at her and all she can think is _broken_.

He looks _broken._

The creases around his eyes are more pronounced then ever and his frown mars the usually playful features of his handsome face.

She wants nothing more than to hold him, give him comfort, warmth, anything to make him the vibrant man she is used to; but if there's anything Lisbon has learned over the years is that self preservation goes a long way and as much as she wants to give over a piece of herself in order to save him, her instincts keep her rooted to the ground.

"I don't think there's anything left to say."

Their eyes meet and she swallows hard, because they both know it's not supposed to be this way and yet it is.

So they stand in her kitchen silently, no longer a supervising agent and her consultant.

Just two people at the precipice of something extraordinary with an even greater force holding them back…


	7. Part VII: Soft Voice, Break Easy

Running Through Red Lights

Disclaimer: Don't own anything…Lyrics by Coldplay.

Rating: T

Spoiler: Red Badge, Black Gold and Red Blood.

A/N: Heyy! I just couldn't stay away. All your wonderful reviews inspired me to finish writing quickly. You guys are seriously one of the most support groups of reviewers I've ever encountered. So, I hope you guys stick around, because things are only going to get better from now on! I promise.

***

Part VII: Soft Voice, Break Easy

_"Nobody said it was easy  
It's such a shame for us to part..."_

Patrick Jane is no stranger to sin.

Through the years, he's been guilty of quite a few things, made several poor choices, indulged in far too many forbidden fruits, and now finds himself still reeling from the aftermath.

Also, he's quite amused by the fact that whole of human vice can be grouped into seven categories and still retain legitimacy.

He thinks perhaps pride is the one he identifies with the most, because from an early age his father taught him to be proud of his abilities, nurture them, and not think of himself as an average boy. He could do and sense things that others couldn't and with careful practice and time, he could use his skills to promote his own self interests.

Jane wants to think he's rid himself of that arrogant and slightly false belief, but sometimes, when he closes a case and still gets a few raised eyebrows in return, he feels the tiniest bit of pride for finally contributing his skills to something other than ruining people's lives on public television.

On the same token, he is well acquainted with anger, particularly because the only case he wants to close, the only murderer he wants to catch, has eluded him for over five years now. So everyday Jane wrestles with anger, anger and guilt for his reckless past, for the consequences he rendered, the two loves he lost.

Driven by greed, Jane lost himself in the glitz and glamour of Hollywood, using his talents to generate wealth, indulging in things he'd mistaken for happiness, letting gluttony take over, ignoring his wife's warnings and his daughter's pleas to spend more time with him.

Seduced by the spotlight, by recognition, as a young and reckless man his lust for greener pastures consumed him so deeply that eventually he struck a chord with the wrong viewer, taunted a dangerous man, and found that his opponent would make sure that Jane suffered the ramification of his actions for many years to come.

His loss reduced him to a shadow of a man, behind the spotlight, behind the curtain, away from the stage, he was nothing.

He became a sloth, no longer interested in life, in anything, only in letting the excruciating moments of his existence tick by. The same brave man who put himself on display in front of millions of fans every night, venturing into the crevices of every mind available to him, was now just flesh and bones, too afraid to kill himself but too afraid to live.

Until one day, he awoke with a new purpose, a new goal in life, one that still eluded him, but the promise of which he thinks will complete him, finish his purpose for living after those he loved died.

He still hasn't achieved his purpose, but from the moment he joined the CBI, he's had the plan all mapped out and nothing would stand in his way.

Or so he thought.

Now, Jane thinks differently.

He doesn't want her to be his new reason for living, but somehow Teresa Lisbon has become a new chapter in his life.

His whole career and persona is built on being observant enough to spot what others can't, but even he didn't see it coming, couldn't predict that the vivacious but tough as nails detective would change him somehow.

No, the change was gradual, so incremental it snuck up on him one day, one day when he picked up a firearm for the first time in his life without hesitation and shot a valuable pawn in his plan, to save Lisbon's life.

It's then that he knew, suddenly realized that this woman meant something to him, would continue to be in his life whether he liked it or not.

Thus, he eventually learned to depend on her presence. He even began to take comfort in her softly curved figure hidden beneath layers of work armor, in her suspicious green eyes, in the half smile on her lips, and her ability to challenge him.

Unlike other men, Jane finds no shame in admitting when he's been smitten by a beautiful woman. He doesn't look at it as a sign of weakness, but more as a privilege.

Yet, somehow he feels like he took his privilege for granted, because as soon as he let himself indulge in her kisses, in her soft skin, in the way her eyes would grow dark when she was near him, she slipped past his fingers by no fault of her own.

He doesn't regret what he did.

Wouldn't change his actions for anything, because regret has no place when you're on a path seeking retribution; however, a mere glance in her direction has him feeling tiny prickles of guilt, of remorse, things he has no business feeling, because they cloud his judgment, steer him off course, something he cannot afford to do.

He knows he hurt her, probably even betrayed her, and while he wants things to be different, he knows it will take far more than her hurt to make him change his mind.

There's a battle inside him, two sides of him that cannot reconcile, cannot converge.

The vengeful side and the side that's fighting to live again, to smell a woman's scent, trace her lovely skin, kiss her perfect lips; pamper her, care for her.

Until now, he wasn't sure which side was winning this internal duel; he was also pretty certain that of the seven sins, he could triumphantly declare that he has never been poisoned by envy.

But that all changed when he walked into the bullpen this morning.

Now, as he stands in familiar ground, watching through the open blinds in Lisbon's office how she interacts with an unfamiliar man, perfectly complaint with how he invades her personal space, Jane feels a tightening in his chest that he hasn't experienced in a long time.

It's as if his heart is finally coming alive, alerting him rather erratically that despite his deepest masochistic desires, he's still a living, breathing being. He's a man who can no longer fight the realization that he might be falling for this incredible woman currently being appreciated by someone else.

The unfamiliar sting of envy gnaws at him and Jane doesn't like it.

So he defies all rules of propriety and barges into Lisbon's office,

"Lisbon, sweetheart we're out of tea again."

He says as soon as he flings open the door, startling the two brunettes deep in conversation.

The supervising agent sets her jaw and narrows her eyes at him immediately, already suspecting ulterior motive.

He looks at her and then finally sizes up the man leaning against her desk in one fluid, barely detectible glance.

He appears to be around six feet tall, Rigsby's built, with calculating gray eyes and short black hair, he also looks positively intrigued by Jane, which the consultant uses to his advantage.

"O dear lord, where are my manners. I'm Patrick Jane," He sticks his hand out before Lisbon can interject and kick him out of her office.

"Eric Wilkes, nice to meet you," The brunette leans over the desk and grasps Jane's hand in a tight but admirable handshake.

Jane flexes his hand afterwards sheepishly, knowing it will endear him to the man.

Lisbon doesn't look pleased, her mouth in a scowling frown and her arms crossed over her chest, clearly not amused by Jane's showmanship, but he doesn't care.

Smiling brightly at Wilkes, he speaks, "What brings you by to the CBI this early in the morning? If it's our wonderful tea selection, I hate to disappoint you but my dear Lisbon is on kitchen duty this week and has neglected her responsibilities."

Lisbon's jaw literally drops when Eric chuckles lightly in response,

"Nah, I'm more of a coffee drinker, just came to visit an old friend."

His eyes drift to the women sitting between them and Lisbon gives him a tight smile, not quite believing that Eric didn't seem as put off by Jane as other cops are upon meeting him.

"Yeah and we were rudely interrupted, I'll have to apologize for my colleague here, who has no concept of knocking."

"It's alright." Eric shrugs it off, then adds, "You're a cop?"

His eyebrow is raised slightly and he looks a bit confused, which Jane finds very amusing,

"Oh god no, I'm merely a consultant, which entails the supervision of victuals in the office and keeping dear Lisbon here occupied in her off time."

"Oh?" Eric looks at Lisbon, surprised but the brunette merely runs her hand over her face, pinching the bridge of her nose.

It's not even 9 in the morning and Jane has already managed to embarrass her.

"Jane, out now," she raises her voice slightly and Jane frowns overdramatically.

"But what about my tea?"

She glares at him and he tries very hard not to laugh at the rise he gets out of her,

"Close the door on your way out," Lisbon adds and Jane concedes,

"Well someone's grumpy this morning, anyway it was nice to meet you Eric, have a pleasant time catching up with the Grinch here."

Lisbon is even more mortified when Eric seems to take part in Jane's teasing of her,

"You know, back in San Francisco, we used to call her T-Bone. She was vicious with suspects." Eric winks.

"Interesting," Jane muses, while Lisbon shoots Eric a glare, as if to communicate her dislike with his siding with the enemy.

"You can go now, Jane."

"Alright, but I'll be around." He says his eyes trained on Eric on the way, silently wondering how he's going to hide four new boxes of tea Van Pelt purchased just yesterday.

***

Every punch is cathartic and every kick helps lessen the weight on her chest.

It's good that it's a slow day at work, because with the amount of confusion and anxiety she's feeling, she would be useless in the field.

If she's honest with herself, she'll admit that it's been quite a while since she's felt truly at peace and it has everything to do with a certain blond consultant that just won't leave her alone.

Throwing another punch, Lisbon tries to channel her emotions into physical motion but she's kept her feelings of hurt and betrayal in for so long now that it's difficult to even discern what it is about their fight that bothers her so much.

She doesn't expect him to give up on Red John.

She knows it's like asking Jane to stop breathing, but a little warning, a little inclusion in his plans would be nice.

It's not asking too much, but somehow she feels vulnerable voicing her concerns, which is a novel feeling because despite the brief moment of uncertainty after Jane hypnotized her so many months ago, she's never felt unsure around him, always at ease, never wondering if he'll pass judgment.

Perhaps, that's what truly bothers her.

It's not that she can't trust him or doesn't.

It's terrifying and even slightly pathetic, but even after his latest stint, a part of her trusts him implicitly, knows that he doesn't mean to hurt her, would never intentionally do so.

The guy saved her life after all, sacrificed a link to Red John for her and that's not something that's easily erased.

Her muscles ache as she continues to fight against the suspended weight, but the adrenaline coursing through her veins motivates her.

It's as if with every punch and kick, every twist of her body, her mind brings her closer to clarity, closer to identifying why she's been so on edge with Jane lately.

There's no doubt she misses him, misses his presence in her home, misses the little things he would do to let her know he's thinking of her, misses his touch, his kiss, almost everything about him.

She knows thinking about this will lead her into uncharted territory, break her resolve, so she fights against it, but the images in her head are resistant as she recalls the evenings they spent together on her couch, just wrapped up in each other, nothing but the noise from the television to supplement the companionable silence between them.

She feels privileged to know that part of Jane, the soft vulnerable side of a man who lives behind a mask most of the time, but it infuriates her, because he's gotten under her skin and she can't seem to push him away.

Her lack of oxygen and fatigue in her sore muscles finally overpower the brunette and she retreats from the punching bag, taking a moment to catch her breath.

"Uh, the Lisbon secret to tackling men twice her size, watch out the bag bruises easily."

She almost chokes on her water when she turns around, sees him casually leaning against the door, his jacket absent, just those gray slacks, the crisp white shirt, the gray vest, his typical costume, another thing to hide behind.

She never noticed before, but Jane uses clothing as a shield. Some might think him eccentric for the getup but she thinks he's smarter than that. No one will ever see the real side of him if he's wearing an expensive suit.

Easy way to fool people.

"I'm surprised you know where the gym is." She replies back, wiping the sweat off her brow, realizing very quickly how exposed she is in front of him, all sweat and messy hair.

"Hey I work out."

He defends himself, but then when the swaying bag clips him a little, he recoils like a little child.

Lisbon rolls her eyes, knowing full well he's putting on a show for her benefit.

He's trying to make her smile, a continuous attempt since that day in her kitchen, and although she finds his persistence admirable, there's still a part of her that feels like he's misleading her.

Like he's trying to weasel his way back in, only to cause her more pain later on.

It keeps her guarded, on edge, not quite as relaxed in his presence as she used to be, and she knows by the somewhat disappointed look in his inquisitive blue eyes that he knows this to be true as well.

"So, Agent Wilkes, good cop or bad cop?" Jane breaks the silence, still circling the equipment in the room, trying to keep his tone casual.

"I don't know, you tell me."

She takes a sip of water, watching him carefully, seeing if perhaps there'll be a slip up in his nonchalance.

He stops prowling the premises and leans against some weights, looking ridiculously out of place, as he narrows his eyes on her,

"You guys had a romantic relationship that ended on amicable terms, because you decided to transfer to Sacramento. However, unlike Bosco, Wilkes isn't bitter about it, just carries a torch for you still."

Lisbon rolls her eyes. She's long since given up on trying to figure out how his mind works and she doesn't even want to waste her energy on refuting his points.

"Yeah, we dated for a while, nothing serious."

"Maybe not for you," Jane muses, his fingers tracing over the dumbbells neatly stacked on the rack, "but I saw the way he looked at you, kind of like Bosco does sometimes, they're both in love with you."

"Oh, please." She retorts, taking another sip of water and pulling off her gloves, "You act like I'm some hot commodity, have you seen Van Pelt?"

It's meant to be a joke, but the slight frustration in her voice and the overly dramatic hand gesture fail her, expose her vulnerability, that secret fear that she'll never be taken seriously, just be told to stand still and look pretty, despite everything she's accomplished.

"Uh, yes, Grace is quite the attractive woman, but she has a claim staked on her, anyone within a ten foot radius knows how Rigsby feels about her, so they admire from afar."

Lisbon shakes her head now, a half smirk on her face,

"Men, you all act like women are something to assert dominance over, like we're some sort of property."

She tries to divert the topic, but she can tell by the determined way he's heading towards her and the look in his eye that he's not listening to her at all.

"Besides," Jane says quite softly, standing close enough to see the beads of perspiration all over her body, the freckles on her shoulders,

"She doesn't have your legs, or that dimple right there, and her eyes don't have that golden glint in them like yours do."

He reaches out and traces the curve of her lower lip, running his thumb over her jawbone, before cupping her neck.

Lisbon feels like she's in a trance, like her body has completely given into exhaustion and won't move, her limbs are so relaxed, and his warm, large frame sparks such pleasurable memories, heat surges through her veins.

Just one more step, one more turn of her tired body and she'll be in his arms again, kissing him, seeking comfort in him.

His cerulean gaze follows her, she can see the desire in his eyes, the look that communicates everything he wants to but can't say out loud.

She actually contemplates giving in, but then there's a flash of another memory.

The ice cold vodka burning her throat, memories of how her father sought solace in alcohol, and how one wrong move on Jane's part had her weak and broken, seeking comfort in the poison that tore apart her family.

She blinks and the desire drains from her eyes.

Her resolve is too strong, her pain too raw to be forgotten in the midst of a kiss.

"Teresa."

His voice is smooth velvet, a beautiful chord in the chaos of her mind, but it's just a cadence, a brief interlude, not enough to sway her.

His lovely gestures, his compliments, they don't erase anything, don't take back what he did, what he will do in the future. She can't protect herself from the past, but she can save her heart from further ache, so instead of pulling him closer, she pushes Jane back.

"I can't do this." She whispers, refusing to meet his eyes as she slips away from him, throwing her gloves, water, and IPOD into the gym bag.

"Teresa I-…"

"You can't just do that okay?" she interrupts him; "you can't kiss and make it better."

"I'm not tryin-…"

"Yes you are." She exclaims, finally looking at him, wishing she hadn't when she sees the bewildered look in his eye.

Patrick Jane caught off guard would be a sight to see on any other day, but not now, not when she almost let herself fall too far.

"You can't fix this by putting a band-aid on it, Patrick."

"At least I'm doing something," He shoots back, hands flexing at his sides.

There's something simmering beneath his calmness, it's threatening to spill over and unleash everything he's keeping inside.

The frustrated look in his eye, which she only ever sees when Red John is involved, sends chills down her spine.

"What's that supposed to mean?" she turns to face him, hands on her hips, a typical Lisbon pose, defensive to the hilt.

"It means at least I'm trying to fix this, trying to get through to you. You're the one who won't budge, you won't even compromise."

"Compromise? All I've done since you've joined this team is compromise, I've gone out on a limb for you more times than I'd like to remember and you repay me by getting yourself arrested and embarrassing my unit. How can I trust someone like you? How can I give my heart-…?"

"If I'm such a thorn in your side, this partnership doesn't have to continue."

He cuts her off, and she wants to fling her gym bag at him out of pure frustration.

For someone with clairvoyant abilities, he can be so dense.

"It's not about our job Patrick, you're not even listening to me. I trusted you, hell a part of me still does, but you, you disregarded what we had, flung it aside and for what?"

"It was never like that. I care for you, you know that."

He doesn't know what to say, much like he was at a loss for words the day it happened, even weeks later he isn't sure what can make this better.

She looks so broken, so defeated, so unlike herself that it makes him physically ill to watch her struggle.

"You may care for me, but you do not respect me. I never asked you to give up your search; although I disagree with your methods, I know what this case means to you. All I asked for was that you include me in your plans, show me that my opinion matters and not just because I am your colleague. But you proved to me that neither my opinion nor my place in your life matter enough for that little consideration, so I don't think a hug and a kiss will fix this."

The determination in her voice chills him to the bone.

It's as if she's made up her mind that she wants nothing to do with him and he's not prepared for the wave of nausea that washes over him.

He's familiar with the ache associated with his past, sometimes he even takes comfort in the dull pain that comes every time he remembers happier times, remembers when he was still a husband and a father.

However, those are just remnants of a different life.

He can live with painful memories, but he hasn't even thought about a life without Lisbon in it.

He doesn't want to cut ties with her, doesn't want to let her go, he wants to move forward with her, not fall behind without her.

But when he looks at her, he sees how much pain he's caused her, how much his antics, his outlandish behavior, and more recently his break of trust have worn her down, made her endure much more than she needs to and he makes the decision that he thinks will benefit her.

Forget him and his bitter thirst for revenge.

As much as he needs her, she doesn't need him, doesn't need him to bring her down, make her unhappy, make her look so beaten all the time.

"Say yes," He says softly, his eyes still not meeting hers, his voice almost inaudible.

"What?" Lisbon raises her eyebrow, confused and trying to ignore the weight settling in her stomach.

His posture, his voice, everything about him screams defeat and stupidly she's disappointed.

She wants him to fight for her, tell her she's wrong, tell her he needs her, that she's important to him.

"When Eric asks you to dinner, say yes." Jane clarifies and she wishes she heard wrong, "you deserve to be happy, Teresa."

he looks up at her then, a lost blue stare that wanly conceals his need for her, the exact opposite of what he's trying to assert.

But she's tired of playing games, of pushing him, trying to wheedle something vague out of him.

"You deserve it too," she says, but knows for certain it falls on death ears,

"Good night, Patrick." Lisbon adds, reluctant to leave him alone, but knowing that for her own sanity and protection, she has to.

He lets her go.

Doesn't say anything to stop her.

She gives him ample opportunity to stop her, even pausing at the door so he can reach out, pull her back, and ask her to stay.

But he's a coward, he doesn't trust himself with her, knows he'll break her if he screws up again, which is likely to happen.

So she walks away, taking the little warmth he has in his life with her, taking it somewhere he can't go, leaving him behind in the shadows.

His trusted friends.

***


	8. Part VIII: Falling Slowly, Hitting Fast

**Running Through Red Lights**

Disclaimer: Don't own anything…Lyrics by Maroon 5.

Rating: M

Spoiler: Red Badge, Black Gold and Red Blood.

A/N: I hit over 100 reviews!! Thanks again to everyone who reviewed! Enjoy.

***

Part VIII: Falling Slowly, Hitting Fast

"_Back and forth we sway like branches in a storm  
Change the weather still together when it ends…"_

***

She should be surprised when Eric calls her three days later and asks her to have dinner, but she's not.

Regardless of how she currently feels about him, Teresa has come to trust Jane's instincts more than she'd like to admit, both professionally and personally.

And as much as she wants to defy him, prove to him that she's better than his assumptions of her, she accepts the date.

She accepts it, because she doesn't want to spend her nights alone with a bottle of wine and a sinking feeling of loneliness for companions.

By no means is Lisbon one of those desperate women who thinks she needs a man to complete her existence, but she knows her yearning for a family, a future that doesn't consist of an empty bed and workaholic tendencies, is too great to be ignored.

She's afraid.

Afraid that while she was too busy cultivating her career and worrying about her brothers, she missed ample opportunities to meet someone, a chance to have a relationship that doesn't involve the issues that come from dating a colleague who is struggling with his own past, fighting his own demons.

Besides, when she looks back on all her romantic entanglements, Eric stands out simply because he was so free of drama, free of baggage, no Napoleon complex, no domineering issues, the perfect gentleman.

Over the years, she seldom wondered about what could have been if she never accepted the promotion, but now that she's had time to reflect, she realizes they could have worked out, could have built something.

With that prospect in mind, she says yes, and then tries unsuccessfully to avoid eye contact with Jane all day as they work on a new case.

When he stops by her office later that night, he lingers a bit longer at the door, gives her a soft smile and says,

"Wear that turquoise dress you bought last month, it brings out your eyes."

He leaves her stunned, frustrated, itching to throw the paperweight on her desk at his retreating form.

She fumes for half an hour after as she gathers her stuff to leave, mentally going over how pompous he is, how he thinks he knows what's good for her; but mostly, she feels wounded that he can be so goddamn calm when she's about to go out on a date with another man.

Yet those thoughts are replaced with inevitable guilt when she sees his solitary form, lying on the well worn couch; she knows he'll spend the night here.

It makes her angry at him for refusing to admit he was wrong, that he should have called her. All she needs is his recognition, a possible compromise for the future, and she won't go, she'll be right here with him.

She stands in the bullpen watching him and he opens one eye, giving her a sympathetic smile that makes her grit her teeth.

"Uh, the Catholic guilt," He muses, looking at her through the dim lighting.

His sea-colored eyes still manage to penetrate her.

"Go, Teresa. I'll be fine, enjoy yourself."

The detective doesn't know whether to punch him or throw her arms around him, so she just walks away, choosing instead to protect herself, hoping that she can block him out for just one night, at least give Eric the opportunity to show her a good time.

Somewhere before dessert, Lisbon realizes that this is impossible.

Every time she closes her eyes, she sees an image of Jane in the weight room, looking as defeated as ever, silently begging her not to walk away.

So despite the stimulating conversation, the amazing food, and the attentiveness Eric shows her, the only thing that keeps her from cutting their time short is her respect for one of her oldest colleagues.

"You seemed distracted tonight." He says regrettably as the valet brings around his car.

"Oh, I'm not really. Just a bit exhausted, we got a new case. Maybe it wasn't the right time for this,"

She isn't sure what she's referring to, but certainly isn't prepared for Eric's wistful and somewhat understanding smile as he opens the car door for her,

"It's never the right time if someone's heart isn't in it."

He doesn't wait for a response, just walks around to the driver's side and Lisbon is grateful, because his words hit just a little too close to home, strike too deep of a nerve for her to let it slide.

Normally, she would dismiss a comment like that, but Eric's voice reverberates inside her mind, greasing her wheels, not letting her forget.

She can accept that her team suspects the change in her relationship with Jane and she can care less what Bosco thinks, but she has to wonder,

How deep under has she sunk that she can't concentrate on a simple date?

That during dinner she was more aware of the fact that their waiter had a familiar shade of blond hair than whatever Eric was talking about?

Worst of all, how thin is her façade that even an old colleague notices?

She tries to push these thoughts away, tries to concentrate on the scenery that flies by as they drive, but Eric's voice lingers, holds her in a mental bind.

It's worse because she finds herself feeling more guilt for leaving Jane all alone than for being a lousy date and it suddenly hits her.

She can't fight it anymore.

Whatever it is between them, she knows it's not healthy, but neither is bottling up these emotions. She feels drained, lethargic, spent, and doesn't know if she can face another night at home alone with these feelings.

Lisbon steals a glance at Eric and briefly contemplates taking him home, but despite his handsome features and adorable lopsided grin, she feels nothing.

No attraction, no desire, nothing that could force her to go through with it, not even the glass of wine she had with dinner.

Besides, it would not solve anything.

Whatever issues she has, she knows only one way to fix them, only one person who can help her sort them out, so she makes a single seemingly delirious decision,

"Eric, can you drop me off at CBI headquarters, I really need to review some case work."

The brunette in the driver's seat doesn't appear to buy her lame excuse, but nevertheless, changes course.

Lisbon settles in her seat, wondering silently if she's making the worst or best mistake of her life.

_No turning back. _

***

When she finds the bullpen empty, a part of her is relieved.

The realization of what she was about to do catches up to her and she relaxes slightly, taking a moment to breathe before calling herself a cab, deciding that she wouldn't be able to concentrate on anything work related in this late hour.

However, as she waits for the taxi, the sting of disappointment sets in.

It occurs to her that she doesn't even know where to find him if he's not in the office or at home with her.

He put his old house up for sale, and Lisbon doesn't even know where he lives now.

The cold realization hits her like a ton of bricks.

She's been so wrapped up in her own emotions, dealing with her own issues, she never even once contemplated where he went on nights he didn't crash on her couch or in the bullpen.

The feeling of guilt that struck her early in the evening intensifies.

The familiar grounds of her office suddenly become too overwhelming, suffocating, making her remember every time she's come in here in the wee hours of the morning only to find him dozing off, still wearing the same clothes from the night before.

Her heart constricts even as her lungs fill with fresh air, and she can't stop the prickle of tears, she can't make them go away.

Lisbon doesn't cry.

She gets angry, frustrated, overwhelmed, usually finds ways to channel those feelings toward something productive, but this time it's different.

The tears slip past her eyelids no matter how hard she tries to fight them, they fall down her face, leaving a burning trail that she'll remember long after they've dried.

She won't find what she's looking for at home, but when drops of rain begin to mingle with her tears, it solidifies her decision to get into the approaching cab and let the soothing sounds of the jazz station calm down her frayed nerves.

It feels like eternity before her duplex comes into view and the cab stops across the street.

It's pouring now and the driver takes pity on her, giving her a newspaper as a shield against the rain.

Lisbon gives him a watery smile and runs out of the taxi, cursing her decision to wear such a short dress and open toed sandals without being mindful of the precarious weather.

The cab speeds away, leaving her alone in the dark street, heels clicking in tandem with the rain as it hits against the pavement.

The rain feels so good against her skin, so refreshing that she pauses for a second, enjoying the way it hits her face, washing away the salty remnants of tears from her cheeks.

She's so distracted by the feeling, she doesn't notice that she's not alone, until she opens her eyes and the newspaper drops from her hands as she sees him, leaning against her porch, watching her with a longing smile, just as immaculate and relaxed as when she left him on the couch a few hours earlier.

For the moment, their eyes lock and Lisbon forgets that the rain soaks her hair, her jacket, leaves her shivering.

The only thing she can concentrate on is the perfection of this moment.

She's not embarrassed that he caught her in such a childlike pose, that he sees her completely disheveled and drenched.

It all doesn't matter.

He's here.

She went looking for him, but somehow he found her.

That thought propels her forward, until she's standing right in front of him, still in the rain, him still on her porch, calm and undisturbed by the weather. Only evidence of him being caught in the storm are the faint wet spots on his suit jacket, which means he's been here awhile.

"What are you doing here?" Lisbon asks, unable to contain the anticipation in her voice.

Jane looks at her, momentarily taken aback by how radiant she is.

How, even in this dark, stormy night, she glows like a beacon, beckoning him with her shining, green eyes, flushed skin, and that look of purity that can only come with renewal, with the ability to let go.

He doesn't know what brought him here tonight, but when he sees her standing in the rain, indulging in a rare spontaneous moment, not tied down by obligations, just letting herself be, he's grateful that he listened to his instincts.

Because, he's tired of hiding, tired of resisting the inevitable; seeing her leave to go on a date with someone else, feeling that envy again, knowing he practically encouraged her to go, it all reminds him that he's just a man.

He comes with a truckload of baggage, but for some reason this brave woman in front of him doesn't mind it, almost welcomes it.

And he finds that he doesn't want to fight her anymore.

He wants to give in, wants to breathe in her scent again, let her in, give her every part of himself that he can, wants to take everything she has to offer and return it double, because she deserves it and selfishly he wants to be the one to give it to her.

"I was right," He muses, reaching out to run a finger down her soft, wet cheek,

"You look radiant in this dress."

Lisbon sucks in a breath, unconsciously leaning into his touch as he steps down to her level, coming away from the shield of the porch, letting the rain soak his clothes, his hair, everything.

That's when she realizes how insane they both are.

"We're both going to get sick," she says whimsically, a small smile playing on her face as she watches Jane look up into the sky, welcoming the water that pours over them both.

He chuckles in response, slides his hands into her coat until she's flush against his warm body. Wet clothes stick to them both, but neither makes the move to go inside.

Her heart beats violently against her chest and despite his calm exterior, when she puts a palm to his torso, she can feel the beat of his heart erratic against her hand. It's comforting to know she's not the only one completely terrified of this change happening between them.

It feels like there's a shifting tide, that something between them is transforming whether they like it or not; two magnets getting pulled back together regardless of how hard they try to stay apart.

"Teresa,"

His voice breaks through her reverie, and Lisbon looks up at him.

His eyes now tell a different story.

They're serious, concentrated, but warm, the blue is growing darker in them, almost to a cobalt shade; he touches the hand on his chest, wraps his fingers around her wrist delicately, squeezing gently,

"I don't want to hide anymore." He whispers but Lisbon hears him loud and clear despite the sound of rain pelting against the veranda,

"Me neither," she replies.

And when Jane scoops her into his arms and kisses her, there's no hesitation, no anxiety, no concern about the future.

It's just the moment, this single instant of understanding, of trust, of everything that doesn't need to be spoken out loud, because they know.

They both know now.

_No more fear._

***

They stumble awkwardly through the front door, chuckling quietly between kisses when she accidentally stubs his toe with her stiletto.

Jackets are shed, kisses are spilled, and before she knows it, Lisbon finds herself pinned to the wall, legs wrapped around Jane's waist as he attacks her neck with the fervor of a starving man.

She runs her fingers through his damp curls, shuddering at the sensations he's creating in her, the way he holds her so protectively, as if he's afraid to let go.

The detective wastes no time ridding Jane of his armor.

She pulls his vest off, then his shirt, finding it difficult to concentrate as his hands flex against her thighs, thumbs brushing over lace, teasing her with the promise of so much more.

His tongue traces over a particularly sensitive spot on her neck and she arches against him, letting out a sound that resembles a purr. It resonates deep within him and Jane pulls her into a bruising kiss, communicating everything he's feeling but can't quite describe.

Words seem inappropriate somehow.

The heat radiating from her body is seductive all on its own and despite wanting this to be special, wanting to cherish and explore her body for hours on end, the need for her is overpowering. When he finds wicked green eyes watching him as lithe hands trail down to settle on his belt buckle, Jane doesn't hesitate tightening his grip on her and taking them upstairs.

Somewhere in the hallway, he toes off his shoes and unzips her dress just low enough to taste new, unexplored skin, to make her moan and say his name in that way that reminds Jane that he's indeed a male who will never be immune to the pleasurable cry of a woman, especially the one currently pleading with him not to stop.

He feels his way through the hall and into her bedroom, gently settling her on the bed.

When he leans back and sees her lying on the plush covers, chest heaving, her dress pooled at her waist, and her pale smooth legs contrasting perfectly with the black leather of her sandals, Jane realizes he may never get this image of Lisbon out of his head…_ever_.

She doesn't flinch as he openly admires her and the realization that she trusts him enough to see her like this, bare, exposed, completely vulnerable, sends a shiver down his spine that almost disables him.

"C'mere." She murmurs, making his ache for her intensify.

She's offering herself and who is he to deny her?

He finally gives into the primal side he's been fighting since their first kiss, and settles between her hips.

Their eyes lock in the darkness, smiles in between kisses, and he watches the emotions change on her face as he pushes the lace aside and lowers himself inside her.

A gasp of breath, her hips cradling him, the warmth radiating from within her as he holds her closer, losing himself, losing control…

Everything is overpowered by this feeling of complete abandon, of sensations that were thought be long forgotten, clawing to the surface as soft, warm hands scratch at his back.

They move effortlessly together with the urgency of untapped passion and the expertise of old lovers.

There's no hesitation, no second guessing, just _feeling_.

Jane drowns in her scent, in the sounds she's making, in the way her lips almost tremble as he glides over her.

His sturdy frame pins her to the bed as he moves, at first slowly, reserved almost, then as she responds to him, arching her hips, fingers tracing the path of his shoulder blades, his spine, he begins to lose resolve, control, the move of his muscles, the strength he possesses, everything turns erratic until her whole body is shaking with pleasure.

Lisbon tries to keep her eyes on Jane, but heat building inside makes it impossible to concentrate.

His touch is rough, bruising as he raises her legs higher around him, but his kisses are soft, languid, and indulgent. His gaze is no longer wild, lust-filled, but vulnerable, reflecting all the insecurities he would otherwise mask with expensive thread and a playful smile.

The duality threatens to undo her completely and when she feels the first touch of his fingers stroking her, bringing her impossibly closer to that elusive sensation, that unattainable feeling of complete euphoria, the tight coil inside her snaps and she unravels…fast.

Her body convulses beneath him but Jane holds her, rocks against her, rides it out with her, feeling something unidentifiable after comprehending that he's the one who made her feel this way.

He's the one who made her skin flush and eyes flutter, he's the one responsible for the look of pure pleasure on her face; that thought is enough to pull him over the edge.

And when he tumbles down, Lisbon is there to catch him like she always is.

Running her fingers through his hair, cradling his head in the crook of her neck as he sinks his mouth into her flesh; she kisses his shoulder, his neck, his cheeks, any skin available to her as he comes undone, after a few moments collapsing against her.

Lisbon tries to catch her breath, fighting exhaustion as she trembles in the aftershocks.

Jane wastes no time sliding down the length of her body.

Instead of fatigue, he finds himself imbued with vigor, as if his body, his spirit, his mind have all been reawakened, refueled, all because of the breathtaking woman in front of him, currently propped on her elbows, hair a mess, lips swollen, not a clue how unbelievably stunning she is.

"What are you doing?"

Lisbon asks softly, watching as Jane unclasps her right sandal, placing kisses on her ankle, before switching feet.

He gives her a wicked smile in return, looking painfully sexy, as he proceeds to kiss his way up her calf to the inside of her thigh.

The look on his face is pure seduction and Lisbon shudders as his hand slips inside her dress, fingers hooking into the fabric underneath, pushing it unbearably slowly down her legs.

He continues to undress her, taking meticulous care in sliding the silk of her dress down her body, leaving her shivering despite the warmth in the room.

It's only when he's lying against her, skin to skin, no barriers between them, that he brushes the bangs from her forehead affectionately and responds,

"You don't think I'm done, do you?"

The innuendo makes her toes actually curl, the anticipation settling deep within her stomach.

She shakes her head and Jane leans in, capturing her lips in a sweet kiss,

"Good, because I'm not going anywhere."

_No more running._

***


	9. Part IX: Patience and Grace

**Running Through Red Lights**

Disclaimer: Don't own anything…Lyrics by Sarah McLachlan, title from the Foo Fighters.

Rating: T

Spoiler: Red Badge, Black Gold and Red Blood.

A/N: Thank you for all the wonderful feedback, I can't stress enough how much the responses I get motivate me, thanks!

***

Part IX: Patience and Grace

"_You're so beautiful  
with an edge and charm  
but so careful  
when I'm in your arms…"_

***

The crack of thunder jolts the brunette awake and the slight tremor of her body stirs the man besides her.

She twists in his embrace and one look is all it takes for him to pin her to the bed, hands tracing over skin that seems to come alive from just one touch, one kiss, one swipe of his tongue.

Thunder, rain, storms used to scare Lisbon as a child, her mother died when a drunk driver lost control of his car during particularly stormy weather, but tonight she isn't afraid.

Jane keeps his blue eyes on her, memorizing every detail of her face as she lies beneath him, shivering as he glides against her.

She's comfort in its purest form: warm, inviting, soft, everything that's been missing from his empty and cold existence and everything he should be afraid of letting in, but isn't.

At least not now…

He's too far gone, too much has happened between them, everything has transformed and he doesn't know if he wants to go back, doesn't know if his heart can take another step back.

So he clutches to her, partly from desperation and partly from the exhilaration he feels.

It hasn't sunk in yet, it hasn't really hit him yet that this is Lisbon in his arms, but he's getting there.

He doesn't think the joy he feels will ever dissipate though, it's too surreal after so long to feel someone besides him, especially someone he finds himself falling hard for.

Sex has never been hard for him, it's extraordinarily easy for him to differentiate between mind and body, but this time he's too mixed up, too intoxicated to make the distinction.

He has no where to hide and finds himself not wanting to either.

Instead, as he's discovered over the last few months, he welcomes this change, he wants to be the man in Teresa Lisbon's life, wants to make her smile, wants to pacify her when she's angry, when she's sad, when she's just plain exhausted.

Wants to give her everything he has, and for someone who's lived for himself for the last five years, for someone who has justified every selfish and inconsiderate move by his vengeance, he's surprised at his own willingness.

But it's really no surprise, because he's never once doubted two things about the woman beneath him.

First, she's incredibly selfless.

Second, he doesn't deserve her, not as the loyal friend she's been, the understanding partner, or the incredible lover.

So he sinks a little harder, moves a little faster, and kisses her with a bit more fervor, and when she breathes his name into his ear, sending chills down his spine, he collapses on top of her, shaking as she digs her nails into his biceps, holding onto him tightly.

When his heavy breathing subsides, Jane leans back to look at her, running his fingers through her hair, his thumb gliding over the apple of her cheek,

"Sorry for waking you up," Lisbon whispers, skin flushed and eyes shining.

Jane chuckles, giving her the softest of kisses,

"Nonsense, wake me up like that anytime, woman."

His low but melodious laughter blocks out the thunder and the incessant pelt of rain against her window and Lisbon lets herself sink deeper into his embrace, a place that she has grown accustomed to in a few short hours.

Jane nuzzles her neck, kisses her bare shoulder, just able to make out the freckles on her skin, traces them with his tongue, relishing how she shivers against him, body reacting involuntarily to his ministrations.

He glances over her at the alarm clock and realizes it's way too early not to indulge in a few hours of sleep.

Lisbon's breathing eventually evens out and he feels her relax completely.

He's content to watch her, hold her, make sure she's okay but he must doze off sometime after her, because when he opens his eyes, the bed is empty and there's sunshine pouring in through the half drawn curtains.

The window is propped open and he inhales sweet morning air.

It smells of freshness, vitality, renewal, everything he's feeling and he's about to get up when Lisbon walks in, smiling as she crawls onto the bed with two mugs, hanging one to him.

"Here, I made you some tea, just the way you like it."

Jane takes the mug but it's hard to concentrate when she's so close to him, wearing just peach lace and his dress shirt, unbuttoned, revealing the smooth skin of her stomach and the curve of her breast.

He wraps his arm around her waist, pulling Lisbon closer until she's situated in his lap, holding her own cup of coffee to her chest, sipping in silence as he runs his fingers through her hair, addicted to the softness of the chestnut strands.

For the first time in a very long time, Lisbon finds that her morning isn't consumed by whatever case she's currently working on.

In fact, work hasn't entered her mind once since she woke up and it makes her smile, makes her remember why she didn't want to hold onto bitterness, to anger, why she tried to let go of all the hurt last night.

She looks up at Jane then, his sea-colored gaze trained on her even before she meets his eye, and he places the tea on the nightstand, settling closer against her, as if he can't get enough.

Lisbon takes a sip of coffee and thinks about how great it would be to just lie like this all day, shut the rest of the world out, no obligations, work or otherwise.

"A day off sounds so tempting," Jane murmurs against her hair, "alas, my dear, crime does not sleep."

Lisbon smiles in spite herself, "I hate when you do that," she replies, running her hand over his cheek, the stubble scratching her skin.

"What?" He asks, feigning innocence.

"You know," Lisbon nudges him playfully, "how you can tell what I'm thinking."

Jane laughs heartily, curious hands grazing her ribcage, feather like touch against her breast,

"I bet if you really tried, you'd know what I'm thinking too."

His voice is low and soft, intimate against her ear and the brunette feels the intensity of his cobalt stare as he leans in for a kiss.

She pulls back after a moment; her hand doesn't leave his cheek as he rests his chin on her shoulder,

"If I guess correctly, we'll be late for work." She whispers, only half teasing and the groan Jane emits makes her laugh.

It's good to know she's not the only one completely smitten.

They break eye contact when he slips from beneath her and looks for his clothes.

Lisbon settles under the covers and finds herself unabashedly admiring the man shuffling around her bedroom.

The sun spills into her room at an angle that illuminates everything and he looks almost ethereal: blond, strong, tanned.

Every muscle in his body is defined, extended, and evokes memories that ignite all her senses, making her close her eyes and relive every moment of the night before in vivid detail.

"Fantasizing about me, I see."

Lisbon snaps her eyes open, blinks, and frowns when she sees the look of absolute self indulgence and pride on Jane's face.

His smile is wicked, his stance perfectly poised, and she almost thinks that he doesn't need his suits to hide behind; he can be completely naked and still create an immaculate façade.

She doesn't know if that's a good thing.

"You wish," Lisbon quips back, placing her coffee on the nightstand.

"I need my shirt back you know," Jane reminds her, approaching slowly after he's half dressed, tipping the scales as he slides the white material off her shoulders, fingertips sliding against her smooth skin, leaving gentle licks of fire in their wake.

He stands somewhat mesmerized for a moment and Lisbon smiles at him, walking past him to the bathroom, grabbing her tooth brush.

"We should probably ride in separately." She says after a moment of contemplation, unscrewing the tube of tooth paste.

There's a brief minute of silence and then he appears at the door way, perfectly dressed, as if he hasn't spent the night wrapped up in her sheets.

"I think that would be best, I need a change of clothing and a definite shave."

And there it is.

A perfect opportunity for her to ask what's been in the back of her mind since the night before, but for some reason the query dies on her lips, can't force herself to ask that question, afraid she'll venture into uncharted territories and selfishly doesn't want to break this moment.

Doesn't want to ruin the wonderful beginning to this day by asking where he goes, where his home is now.

Ironically, she thinks that for Jane home and a place to sleep are two very different, undefined entities, and it solidifies her decision to keep her mouth shut.

"You alright?"

"Yeah, I'm okay."

His furrowed eyebrow and gentle smile show that he isn't convinced, but he also doesn't push, instead places a soft kiss on her cheek and catches her eye in the bathroom mirror, burying his nose in her hair,

"I thought you looked gorgeous last night in that dress, but I've realized now I prefer you in lace."

His hand playfully traces her hip, where the material meets her skin and she can't hide from the spread of goose bumps or the teasing smirk on Jane's face as he pulls away.

"I'll see you at work, pervy." She teases, pushing him out of the bathroom, making sure he can't totally torment her for the blush rising on her cheeks.

He bids her a good bye and a few moments later she hears the door click shut.

She catches her reflection in the mirror and the enormity of the previous night washes over her.

She doesn't look different, but she feels different, lighter somehow, as if for the first time she's not carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders.

So she stands in her bathroom, grinning like a fool with a tooth brush hanging from her mouth, because for once she can't find any reason to be afraid.

***

She's so consumed by paperwork, she doesn't even realize how late it is until there's a knock on her door,

"Hey," she gives him a tired smile, dropping her pen, "good job on the case today, I'm impressed with your restraint."

"Well, it's the least I could do, knowing how little sleep you got the night before."

His playful grin and subtle intonation make her shiver, but she conceals it, rolling her eyes playfully at him,

"Thank god for small favors then, hmm?"

But her eyes convey everything he needs to know.

They're a smoldering green shade, suddenly rejuvenated after appearing so dull for most of the day, the weight of the case and lack of rest catching up with her.

"No, thank me," He winks and Lisbon just shakes her head, finding that refocusing on paperwork is futile.

She stifles a yawn.

"I thought you left after we closed the case."

"I had to take care of some things, but I'm back now, and you my dear must go home and get some rest."

His ambiguity and deflection of her question makes Lisbon frown.

The familiar uncertainty that has eluded her all day is back now and she can't stop the pressure that falls on her heart.

Nevertheless, she flashes Jane a complacent smile and starts to clean her desk.

He reaches across the stacks of paperwork and places his hand gently on hers,

"Teresa, it can wait until tomorrow, you look like you're ready to pass out."

The concern in his voice and the careful way he helps her into her jacket all warm her heart, make the little doubts in her head drift away, if only temporarily.

Their silence is comfortable, familiar, and his hand on the small of her back doesn't feel oppressive, but warm and inviting, like he's guiding her not dragging her along.

The detective would be the first to admit that she's always had to work twice as hard to prove herself as an equal in her line of work and if it were any other man taking the lead, she would protest just a bit more, show some of that natural defiance that propelled her success, but with Jane, it's different.

He doesn't push, he doesn't try to assert his claim on her, at least not in any serious manner, and he lets her make her own decisions, takes her away from the stigma she thinks she has to face.

So instead of running from him, trying to affirm independence, when they're in the elevator, Lisbon takes hold of his hand and interlaces her fingers with his.

Jane looks at her from the corner of his eye and gives her an understanding smile, realizing it takes a lot for her to hold a man's hand in her workplace, even if it is after hours.

And not for the first time in the last few weeks, Jane realizes he's falling fast…

Faster than he can catch himself.

***

He insists on driving and Lisbon doesn't protest.

She's too exhausted.

The car ride is silent, and she lets herself drift away, lulled into a dreamless sleep by the soft stroking of Jane's thumb on her hand and the warm breeze filtering through the half open car window.

When they pull up to her driveway, she groggily makes her way out of the car, half leaning on Jane as they walk up the stairs.

He wraps his arms around her waist, supports her as she fishes her keys out of her purse and unlocks the door.

She's so consumed with thoughts of her bed and maybe a glass of wine that she doesn't sense the anticipation radiating from the man behind her until he flips on the light switch and she has to blink to make sure she's really seeing what's in front of her.

The last vestiges of sleepiness fall away as she steps further into the living room.

She's not a romantic, never has been, always preferred to be realistic to holding expectations, but the simplicity and consideration behind his action override any cynicism she might have.

The kitchen is illuminated by a dozen pink candles placed strategically around the room; the table has two place settings adorned by a bottle of wine and a maroon cloth.

She's not sure what's warming in the oven but it smells great.

"So this is where you went?" Lisbon asks, unable to contain her smile when she sees Jane's somewhat sheepish look.

"Yeah, I had your lovely neighbor from upstairs keep an eye out on things so I wouldn't burn down your house. By the way keeping your spare key under the mat is not such a good idea."

She takes a step towards him, finding it incredibly endearing that Jane rambles when he's nervous.

Throughout the years they've worked together, she can say with certainty there've been only a handful of times when she's seen him as nervous as he is at the moment and she reaches out to caress his cheek, hoping to quell his anxiety,

"Thank you, no one's ever done something like this for me before," her voice is soft and he takes her hand in his, kissing the smooth skin of her palm while keeping his eyes trained on hers.

"It's the least I can do, after everything."

It's not an apology.

But it's a start, and instead of feeling shortchanged, Lisbon breaches the distance between them and pulls Jane into a deep kiss.

There's a multitude of reasons why she shouldn't be so forgiving, but the only one she can think of is for why she should be.

Why she should let herself indulge in a little happiness, be a little selfish, and lose herself in the comfort of this man, the same one who despite the many wounds he's sustained and the walls he's built is slowly, very slowly letting her in.

And although Lisbon has never been a very patient person, staring into the sea-colored eyes in front of her, she realizes Patrick Jane is someone worth waiting for.

***


	10. Part X: A Moment in the Quiet

**Running Through Red Lights**

Disclaimer: Don't own anything…Lyrics by the Wallflowers.

Rating: T

Spoiler: Red Badge, Black Gold and Red Blood.

A/N: Thank you for reviewing everyone! I hope everyone is enjoying this as much as I enjoy writing it.

***

Part X: A Moment in the Quiet

"_I'm so alone, and I feel just like somebody else  
Man, I ain't changed, but I know I ain't the same…"_

***

Jane used to have terrible nightmares. They were vivid, disturbing, and turned him into an insomniac. Though the images themselves were always different, the motif was still the same. Having not witnessed his family's murder, his mind played evil tricks on him, manipulating the scene in every which way possible.

Sometimes it was a string of pictures like photographs, still frames of his wife and child sprawled on the bed, a faceless man with a knife standing over them, blood everywhere.

Other times, it was just his wife's smiling face turned broken, crying, sad, as she begged for mercy, asking the masked man not to harm her baby. His daughter in her mother's arms at first grinning, blue eyes twinkling and then lifeless, vacant irises, her body motionless as the man carefully concocted a familiar crimson mural on the wall behind them.

And sometimes, the worst dream of all, the one that left him shaking and alert for hours was the one where he found himself with the knife, blood on _his_ hands, blood staining _his_ expensive suit, with his wife and child butchered like animals, limbs strewn across the floor.

That dream always ended with him staring at his reflection, he saw someone he could not recognize, an evil grin, dark, scheming eyes, a pleased expression as if he wanted it that way, as if he meant to hurt and murder the only people in his world that meant something to him.

He would not sleep long after those dreams. Those latent manifestations of his guilt and shame were too much to bear at times; they seemed relentless, unceasing, as if he would permanently have to bear the cross not only in wakefulness but also in sleep. He didn't mind it, knew he deserved to be punished for what he did, but eventually, the nightmares stopped, or more like transformed into something else.

They were replaced by his new subconscious purpose.

Now, instead of picturing what Red John did to his family, Jane found himself picturing what he would do to Red John _when_ (not if ) he caught him. There was never much detail to these dreams, but they always, always, always involved him butchering Red John like he butchered his family.

And despite his continued struggle with insomnia, even after the nightmares became just faded memories in which he sought occasional, twisted solace, Jane still envisions what it would be like to finally get his revenge, except now, just beyond the actual act, he wonders what will happen after.

He never has, but as of late, things that have happened to him, a transformation that has caught him off guard, is forcing him to see into the future, manipulating his one track mind into questioning everything he's ever lived for since the murder of his family.

It's quite annoying, he thinks, how his own mind can play tricks on him and he's no more immune to it than the suspects he coerces into confessions or the colleagues he manages to piss off.

Needless to say, Jane doesn't sleep well for an entirely different reason now and he knows a lot of it has to do with the woman whose bed he shares.

She's not supposed to make him think about the possibility of an existence beyond the execution of his revenge. She is not supposed to force pleasant images into his head about what it would be like to gather her into his arms, whisk her away somewhere remote, and not leave the comfort of her warmth for an undefined amount of time.

But she has.

She's done all those things and more, without even realizing it.

Jane is well aware that there are some topics that Lisbon knows are off limits and the main one is his family.

She never questions him about it, never asks, doesn't even touch on his reluctance to part with his wedding band even though he's no more a married man than she is a married woman.

He doesn't know whether to be thankful for her prudence or to be irritated by it.

Sometimes he's both.

He knows if she ever broached the subject in a non-work related manner, he will mostly likely snap at her, become defensive and cold, but he's also quite irked by her complete compliance with him and his less than honest thoughts.

He sometimes wants her to confront him, force him to own up to things that he has trouble letting go, but he knows she never will.

Despite what she may think of herself, the raven haired woman is an incredibly patient, durable soul who's spent most of her life guiding other people into realizing their potential, and he thinks he will be no exception.

But another thing he's learned over the time he's spent getting to know Teresa Lisbon outside work is that she's not as resilient in her own pain as she is in her actions towards others.

Jane thinks about how his own nightmares transformed into something else, something far more sinister: a blinding thirst for vengeance, retribution that quickly clouded all his thoughts and feelings, those of grief, anger, and pain.

For Lisbon, her nightmares have never and will never turn into something as wicked, so he is terrified that the painful images that plague her subconscious periodically will never subside, will never set her free.

The first time it happens, he pretends to be asleep.

He isn't sure why the guise is necessary, but with the way her eyes immediately shift to make sure he hasn't woken up, Jane realizes she's still not ready to let him see that part of her, whatever is hurting her is too private, the memory too raw and painful, and if there's anything he can relate to, it's that.

It's the shame and fear that he won't be understood, that his psyche is too damaged and his soul too frayed to be accepted by someone. As much as his heart aches from suspicion that Lisbon might feel a fraction of what he does, he gives her the space she needs, the privacy that might give her some measure of power, promising to intervene only when he feels it natural to do so.

Thankfully, the episodes are few and far in between and for the most part, he spends his nights in and out of sleep, always comforted though by the presence of the petite woman in his arms, who has somehow begun to lessen the weight on his heart.

He doesn't want to admit it, is unable to cope with the ramifications of the realization, but every night that he holds her or has the privilege of cooking her dinner and listening as she berates him for using way too much wine in his sauces, Jane finds himself closer and closer to admitting that he really is falling in love again.

Which is why one night it becomes unbearable to feign sleep when her small body spasms besides his and she wakes up with a jolt, chest heaving as she takes deep breaths to steady her heart.

He doesn't even realize he's touching her until she turns around and even in the darkness of her bedroom he can see the look of shock and shame cross her features.

He doesn't want to be accusatory, doesn't want to show her he's hurt by her desire to keep this from him, so he gently coaxes her back into his arms.

Lisbon lies down wordlessly, too exhausted to fight him as Jane wraps his arms around her, pulling the covers over them both.

They lie in silence for a long time, his hand tracing over the pulse point on her wrist, until the frantic beat subsides and her body relaxes against him, no longer frigid and cold.

"Tell me about them," he finally whispers against her neck, his warm breath soothing her.

"I don't want to," Lisbon mumbles with a hint of defiance in her tone, burying her head in the pillow.

Jane smiles, he can't help it.

She always tells him how stubborn he is, but in truth, he's malleable to her words, far more so than she is to his.

"Why not?"

Lisbon lets out a sigh and twists in his arms, lying on her back and staring at him.

He's lying on his side, propped on an elbow, the comforter falls to his waist and he has the most concentrated look in his eye.

She gets sidetracked without trying and ponders once again how this even happened.

How he went from being the annoying, slightly damaged consultant that threatened her team's credibility to the man who shared her bed, cooked her dinner, and watched reruns of Seinfeld with her.

Her hand instinctively reaches out to caress his cheek and he responds to her touch like a kitten, rubbing his stubble against her palm, smiling softly at her as he leans down to brush his lips over her forehead.

"I'll make you a deal,"

Jane decides, sliding down until he's eye level to her, "If you tell me, I'll tell you everything that you can't find in my case file."

Her eyes grow wide; she's surprised, taken aback by his suggestion.

"Patrick, you don't have-…"

"I know I don't have to." He presses his fingers to her lips, "but I want to. I've been wanting to for a while. You've told me a lot about your family, your past and I haven't been as divulging. I want you to know."

There's conviction in his voice, sincerity, and Lisbon knows it takes a lot out of him.

Jane isn't just a private person; he's also not quite over what happened. She knows little about his upbringing, but is convinced that he believes his rearing shaped him to be prone to arrogance and made him thirst for fame, which ultimately rendered terrible consequences and she knows that still hangs over his chest until this very day.

So for him to let her in, to finally be ready to tell her everything, it means something, maybe it means absolutely everything and she threads her fingers through his curls, pushes his body on top of hers, and fuses their mouths together in a slow, languid kiss.

"You think you can distract me, woman?" Jane nuzzles her neck after he pulls away, biting slightly on her earlobe, and earning a squeal from the brunette.

"Not at all," Lisbon says innocently, but her foot rubs his calf underneath the covers, contradicting the purity in her expression.

They look at each other for a moment, playful smiles and dazed looks, but when he reaches out to swipe the bangs from her face and feels the cold moisture on her forehead, Jane remembers why they woke up and frowns, his eyes somber as he traces a finger across her collarbone, hooking it into the strap of her camisole.

"I'm serious, Teresa."

"I know."

Her voice is quiet, subdued, there's a hint of insecurity in it that he's frankly not used to, has only heard it once before when she told him to leave after he hypnotized her.

It seems like so many moons ago that it happened and he almost forgot how damaging the whole ordeal was.

It sends an unpleasant feeling of guilt to his chest and he moves her until her head is resting on his shoulder.

Lisbon buries her nose in his chest, letting his scent and heat and everything about him calm her mind for a moment. She's not afraid of telling him everything, she knows there's always been trust between them, but right now all she wants is his presence besides her, wants his quite strength and confidence in her to reaffirm her belief that despite any ghosts that she battles alone in her dreams, she won't have to fight them by herself when she's awake.

"I want to tell you everything, just not tonight okay?" she looks up, her green eyes still as bright and shining even when she's pleading with him, "just hold me."

"Okay," He nods.

Their bodies find each other instinctively, limbs intertwining naturally, as if they're meant to lie like this, be connected in this intimate way.

Jane feels her breathing even out and thinks Lisbon has fallen asleep, so he runs his fingers through her hair, trails his hand up and down her spine, indulging in the softness of her skin and the gentle rise of her chest.

Ironically, though he has not been plagued by nightmares in quite some time, Jane knows he won't get much sleep tonight.

His heart may be at peace, but his mind is in turmoil.

He's used to being the closed off one, the one who carries an air of mystery around him, the one who needs the coaxing, not the one who pushes, but perhaps it's a good lesson for him.

Perhaps, it's good that she humbles him, building his patience, motivating him to open up to her first.

And just as he closes his eyes, almost okay with Lisbon's reluctance to talk, her sleepy voice breaks through the silence,

"Thank you," she whispers, "thank you for wanting to open up to me; I know it must be hard."

He realizes that although he may never again be a completely mystery to the woman in his arms, he's willing to sacrifice that if she promises not to shut him out.

So, he places a soft kiss on her cheek and somehow slowly the bounds of insomnia lessen just enough for him to fall asleep, holding Lisbon closely, subconsciously hoping to chase away both her demons and his...

***


	11. Part XI: Speak to Me, Breathe

**Running Through Red Lights**

Disclaimer: Don't own anything…lyrics by Citizen Cope, title shamelessly stolen from Pink Floyd.

Rating: M

Spoiler: Red Badge, Black Gold and Red Blood.

A/N: Thank you everyone for reviewing! I seriously appreciate it. Especially thank you to my new readers who went back and reviewed previous chapters, thanks a lot!

***

Part XI: Speak to Me, Breathe

"_My adorer, let me tell you a story  
about someone in me  
Now its gonna be surrounding me…"_

***

Another case is closed.

Yet the mood in the bullpen is decidedly somber.

The two extra large post-case pizzas sit untouched in the middle of the conference table and even Rigsby doesn't seem too interested in eating.

Lisbon looks at each member of her team in turn, surveying their equally forlorn expressions and wrecking her brain for something to say, a word of wisdom, anything.

But her throat is dry and there are no coherent thoughts forming. She wants to be encouraging, rise to the occasion, reassure the hardworking people around her that there's something to be learned from this, but there isn't and she knows it.

So she keeps her mouth shut, staring at an unseen spot on the table surface.

Moments later, she feels a hand on her shoulder, and a cup of tea materializes in front of her.

She looks up to find Jane smiling at her, a flash of pure concern in his blue eyes,

"I know you're partial to caffeine, but chamomile does wonders for nerves."

For a moment, it's like they're the only two people in the room and she wants to just lean into his touch, take comfort in him, but all she gives him is a small discreet smile and turns back to her team.

Van Pelt seems to be the only one who notices the exchange between them, but doesn't say anything.

Part of it, Lisbon knows, has to do with respect and the other is probably related to something far more delicate.

Either way, the women exchange pleasant albeit sad smiles when Grace announces her departure and Lisbon ignores that Rigsby makes a weak excuse and leaves shortly after.

"And then there were three," Jane announces, an attempt to lighten up the mood, but it doesn't work.

There's a gloom over the trio and the ensuing silence doesn't do much to alleviate it.

"Boss, I'm going to go. Do you need anything else?"

Lisbon is slightly startled by Cho's inquiry, but gives him a warm smile right away, shaking her head no.

"Okay, good night then guys."

The agent throws his blazer on and walks out of the office, eager to leave, possibly clear his mind after the day, the week they've had.

Lisbon doesn't blame him.

As soon as the elevator clinks in the distance, she makes a move to get up,

"I've got paperwork."

Her tone is rigid, withdrawn, and completely different from a moment ago.

A hand on her arm stops her, "It can wait until tomorrow, or Monday even."

His eyes bore into her, communicating everything he doesn't say, and she sighs, too exhausted to argue.

Yes, paperwork can wait, but it's beyond just that.

She's not used to feeling this vulnerable, being left without any answers. She doesn't know how Jane fights it, but he keeps up a very brave front.

This case had to have hit a nerve with him, but he doesn't show it, not even a crack in his façade.

"Do you need anything from your office?" Jane asks softly, his hand still stroking her arm, fingers interlacing as they sit facing each other.

Lisbon shakes her head, "No, let's just go."

A welcomed shiver runs down her spine when she hears him say behind her,

"Yeah, let's go home."

***

She kisses him as soon as they make it into her apartment.

It's dark and cold.

She hasn't spent the night here in a few days, only stopping by for a change of clothes and a shower; so she clutches to him, soaking up his heat, sliding her small hands somewhat frantically inside his jacket, underneath his vest.

His moments are more fluid, controlled, focused, determined to be her shield, to withstand and absorb any discomfort or anxiety she might feel.

He responds to her kisses, cupping her soft cheek in his palm, the other in her hair, keeping her as close as possible while she wrestles with the buttons on his vest. He feels her tension, senses it in her movements, but he won't begrudge her this, won't stop to judge or analyze her actions, because that would be hypocritical.

He's no one to critique others about grief or guilt or seeking comfort.

So he takes her hand, guides her upstairs, undresses her piece by piece, doesn't realize how much he missed the feel of her beneath him until they slide under the covers and he splays kisses everywhere.

Lisbon wraps her entire body around him, eyes shut, begging to forget, trying to block out all the frightful images, the dead bodies, hazard of the job.

She's usually good at containing her emotions, excellent at separating her work life from her home life, but sometimes the wire is stretched too thin and the spring snaps, leaving her bare, vulnerable, not knowing how to deal.

So she looks for solace in the only stable thing in her life as of late, holding onto Jane, indulging in the way his strong, welcoming frame protects her, holds her down. Lisbon relinquishes all control and the moment their eyes meet in the darkness, the blatant conviction in her emerald gaze, her trust in him spurns Jane on until they lay spent side by side, soft breaths mingling in the air, his lips buried in her hair as he holds her to him.

Jane doesn't dare close his eyes, give into exhaustion, because he feels the tension, feels the words on the tip of her tongue, before Lisbon even says anything.

"I never thought my father's alcoholism was an illness."

The brunette doesn't wait for a response, knows there's nothing much Jane can say to that and when she turns to face him, lying on her side now, her eyes watching him as he watches her, she understands that he's aware that this is just the tip of the iceberg.

That the phrase opens the door to everything she's been feeling but was too afraid to verbalize, everything she wanted to tell him for so long but couldn't.

It's ironic to her that circumstances from her job would be her main impetus for opening up, but she doesn't dwell on it for too long, because Lisbon has stopped trying to rationalize her dedication to work and a lack of personal life a while ago.

"Not once, not even when he was dying of liver cirrhosis, I still thought it was a choice. I was always bitter, always angry at him for being so weak. I was blind. I didn't realize what kind of a sickness it is. It consumes people, makes them do terrible things."

Her face is devoid of emotion, but Jane doesn't need her expression to know how deep her wound goes. There's a very significant distinction between their pasts.

Lisbon did nothing to deserve what happened to her parents, but he got what was coming to him. So while he's haunted by his actions, by the horrible consequences he rendered, the woman he's come to care for deeply is haunted by unjustified loss, by a feeling of helplessness in her adolescence that she has come to revolt against by vying for control in every aspect of her life.

Sometimes, Jane realizes, that self-deprecation and doubt sprouts again, so even though he knows she needs to let this all out, he interrupts her with a gentle touch to her cheek,

"Sweetheart, your father, no matter how dependent he was on alcohol, could never be capable of doing what that woman did."

"You don't know that. He had enough sense to beat his own children, how do you know he wouldn't set an orphanage on fire?" Her reply is curt and she almost shies away from him, a natural defense mechanism and Jane tries not to take it personally.

"Nancy Grays did that because she was a paranoid schizophrenic with an alcohol problem, and her hallucinations made her believe that an innocent group of children were after her. There's a difference."

She looks at him for a moment and the realization in her eyes makes his heart ache, her resigned smile gnaws at him.

"It's sad that I still try to justify his behavior. It's like every case that's remotely similar or reminds me of him forces all these memories out and even if it makes me angry or bitter, I still always try to figure out why he did it, why he let himself deteriorate. My brother's aren't like that, you know. Maybe it's because he stopped being their hero, their dad the second he laid his finger on them, but I don't know why I'm not like that, why I think the way I do."

Her voice is a hushed whisper and in the pale moonlight her green eyes sparkle with unshed tears.

"There's no shame in wishing for the best in people. Maybe if we had more of that in this world, people would act differently." Jane reaches out, tucking a curled strand of hair behind her ear, unable to resist running his finger across her collarbone.

She looks beautiful to him, so simple and bare, not hiding behind her work armor, just letting herself be.

It reminds him of the night he watched her soak up the rain storm, it was a breathtaking sight, not very different from the present.

"Maybe," Lisbon agrees, "but then we'd be out of a job."

She chuckles softly and Jane joins in, the cadence of her low laughter making him grin, a part of him more relaxed now that her smile is more genuine.

They lay in silence for a while, just enjoying each other's company, the peace that has eluded them since they received the call that a local orphanage was burnt to a crisp a little over six days ago.

The investigation was excruciating not only because the victims were children but also because evidence initially led nowhere. The team stuck together though, working diligently, everyone contributing what they could, providing any insight they had, until eventually their suspect pool was narrowed down and they were able to link one of the janitorial staff to the crime.

They only discovered Grays' condition when she was brought in for questioning and Jane instantly had no doubt she did it, but that left no resolution, brought no justice to the children no one wanted in the first place.

Going over each orphan's records, searching for links, isolating potential suspects, it put such a strain on their morale, Jane wasn't surprised that even the strongest, more put together member of their team had a hard time with this case.

It also made Jane realize not for the first time that there were evils beyond Red John in this world, and that sometimes the person was not to blame.

It was a lesson Jane learned as a child, something he still carried with him, but never openly discussed. For now he was content to focus on someone else, channel his energy not into his revenge or his personal demons, but Lisbon's.

"Patrick," Her voice pulls him out of his reverie,

"Hmm?"

"Will you tell me about your mom? What she was like?"

Apparently Lisbon has other ideas.

The question catches the consultant off guard; he's not sure how to answer her, what to start with, if he should start at all. It's close to 3 in the morning and it's a dangerous floodgate she's asking him to open, but when he looks at her, Jane sees hopeful and trusting green eyes staring back at him, a sight he can't deny, can't say no to.

Jane doesn't want to disappoint her though, doesn't want to reveal to her that not unlike herself he lost his mom at a very young age. Different circumstances but the same pain, the same anger and bitterness towards something he doesn't understand anymore now than he did when he was ten years old.

"You don't have to,"

Lisbon says, sensing his hesitation, but Jane is quick to reply,

"No, I do. I just don't want to shatter your hopes."

Lisbon raises an eyebrow at him, "What do you mean?"

"Well, I lost my mother at an early age too and even before that we never had a proper relationship."

She looks even more confused now, "Why not?"

Jane exhales and Lisbon unconsciously inches closer to him, watching the myriad of emotions flash across his face as he carefully cultivates his answer, "because my mom had bipolar disorder."

Lisbon sits up, trying in vain to contain her shock over the revelation.

"Surprised?" Jane asks, the corner of his mouth turned upward, "told ya I would tell you things that aren't in my file."

She narrows her caring eyes at him, a bit annoyed by how nonchalant his comments are, but she quickly deflates, realizing that while she defends herself by shying away from tricky situations, Jane takes it all in with a false but thick shield, refusing to show what he really feels.

She's not sure how to melt the cold shell around him most of the time, but when she sees the hint of vulnerability in his sea colored irises she lies back down, wraps her arms around him and asks him to tell her more.

"There's really not much to tell." Jane admits, feeling torn.

He feels so good, so comfortable in this bed, it's almost deceiving. He doesn't know how to talk about something so dangerous in such a warm environment.

Lisbon doesn't say anything to encourage him, just runs her lithe fingers across the plains of his chest, tracing over the unblemished skin, spelling out designs and patterns that while incoherent send spindles of pleasure through his entire body.

She's soothing him, coaxing the words out of him, without uttering a word herself.

And even though Jane knows this, feels himself lulled somewhat unfairly into revealing everything, the desire to stop hiding from Lisbon overrides any hesitation.

"She was diagnosed right after I was born. The doctors thought it was post partum depression, but when her mood began to fluctuate, they quickly realized what it was. It wasn't so bad, when she took her medication, but when she didn't; it was…I don't know like she wasn't my mother. She was more like my best friend for the first eight years of my life, because she never raised me, she would spoil me, take me out of school, tell me we're going on some adventure and when we'd get home my father would be about two seconds away from calling the police."

"Where would she take you?"

Jane chuckles before replying. Lisbon looks up to find his eyes glazed over in thought, lost in nostalgia, in the past. He has a whimsical smile on his face, but she worries she pushed him too hard, trudging up the past is always a dangerous thing.

"Sometimes the zoo, sometimes an ice cream shop, sometimes we'd just drive for hours and she would tell me stories, fairytales, things like that. She always had some grand idea for the future, like moving to New York and starting her own Cabaret show or becoming an actress in Hollywood. When I was eight, these ideas seemed so out of this world, my mother seemed like the most fascinating person in the world.

I remember hating my father when he would yell at her. He would chastise her for not calling, for not taking her medication, for endangering me. This would inevitably cause tension and eventually she would snap and slip into a depressive episode. Those were the worst. She wouldn't do anything all day, wouldn't eat, wouldn't sleep, wouldn't shower, she'd just lie on the couch and watch TV. She wouldn't leave the house for days, couldn't keep a job, and had no interest in anything. By the time I was ten years old, I kind of got used to it. She refused anti-depressants. Her last depressive episode lasted for about a year but because she didn't do harm to herself or others, no hospital would admit her. And then one day, I came home from school and she was gone."

His voice trails off a bit and Lisbon swallows hard, waiting for him to continue as he keeps his eyes trained on the ceiling.

She's not really sure how to react, what to say.

When Jane first joined her team, Lisbon had been curious about his past, but for some reason, perhaps her ethical stance, she never read past what she needed for the Red John case and now that she knows a bit more, the churning in her stomach won't stop.

It's almost a bit hard to breathe as she listens to his story. She cannot imagine what it must have been like for him as a child. One minute, his mother was his closest friend, his partner in crime, the other she wanted nothing to do with him. At least all her memories of her mother were happy ones, filled with love, not characterized by an emotional roller coaster.

"Where did she go?" The brunette asks quietly, as if she's afraid of the answer and Jane looks down at her, smiles when he sees the crease in her forehead. He wants to tell her how cute she is, how much her evident distress thaws his tough exterior, but he holds himself back, knows if he deviates from the story, he won't be able to finish it.

"We waited for days, weeks. After figuring out that she was sick, the police lost interest in the case, the evidence all pointed to her running away so they gave up after a while. A few months later, my father packed us up and we left town. On the road he started to notice my abilities and decided that it could help us, so we joined a performing arts group, began traveling with them from town to town. He used them as an excuse for our wandering but I knew, I'm still firmly convinced that he was looking for her. He carried a worn out picture of my mother in his wallet and every stop we made, he'd always ask around, always make a point of asking the locals if they've seen her. They never did, no one had seen her and eventually I just got tired of following him across the country looking for an apparition, so we split up and I haven't seen or heard from him since."

"How long has it been?"

Lisbon sits up, clutching the duvet to her chest, facing Jane as he tucks his arm behind his head,

"Long enough," he replies and she doesn't press further.

He lets her draw her own conclusions, but her mind is in disarray,

"I really don't know what to say, I had no idea."

Jane reaches out, tugging on her arm until she sits besides him against the headboard, his head in her lap, "darling, there's no way you would have known, no one knows. The last and only person I ever told was my wife."

The mention of that part of his past freezes Lisbon in place. She suddenly feels cheap almost, as if she's 'the other woman' and it makes her skin crawl, but she pulls herself together remarkably quickly, almost imperceptibly.

She thinks Jane doesn't notice, but he does, he of course notices everything and when he sees the hurt flash across her face, he regrets his word choice, wishes he'd never divulged that detail, shouldn't have been so careless.

He sits up then, taking her hand as he faces her, "Teresa, I'm sorry."

"For what?"

He forgives her for feigning ignorance and guides her eyes to his wedding ring, which leaves a slight impression on the skin of her shoulder, "For everything I can't give you right now,"

She shakes her head, her curls tickling his hand, "don't be,"

"I know you deserve more."

The uncanny softness in his voice, the raw desperation and vulnerability within it resonate deep within her, tug at her heartstrings even more so than the reminder that she may never have his whole heart, that there is always going to be a part of him she can't touch.

The thought worries her, but she can't ignore that he's just disclosed a significant aspect of his past, revealed something very personal to her, so while another woman would run for the hills, Lisbon stays.

In fact, she slides closer until she's straddling him, and then runs her fingers through Jane's curls and says, "Let me be the judge of that, okay?"

His hands instinctively land on her hips and when she leans down and kisses him, whispering a soft thank you in his ear, Jane shuts everything else out, because having her so warm and supple in his arms makes his senses come alive, makes every bad thought melt away.

So, instead of wondering why she's still with him, why she still holds on when others would have let go long before, Jane savors the moment, realizing that the elusive feeling of wholeness, of humanity may not be as unattainable as he originally thought…

***


	12. Part XII: Letting Go, Letting In

**Running Through Red Lights**

Disclaimer: Don't own anything…lyrics by U2.

Rating: M

Spoiler: Red Badge, Black Gold and Red Blood.

A/N: Thank you for all the reviews! You guys seriously rock! A special thanks to **UnbreakBroken **for looking over this chapter for me. By the way, the place mentioned in this chapter is real. I take great pride in the quirky cuisine my city has to offer! Enjoy.

***

Part XII: Letting Go, Letting In

"_There's a part of me in chaos that's quiet  
and there's a part of you that wants me to riot…"_

***

The wonderful and familiar aroma of caffeine invades her senses at her first moment of lucidity.

She doesn't want to wake up but the pull for liquid salvation overpowers the desire to sleep so she opens her eyes slowly, cautiously surveying her bedroom, as if she's expecting the deliverer of her drug to spring up unexpectedly and startle her.

The bedroom remains silent; the only sound is the breeze that ruffles the curtains as it filters into the room, alerting the senior agent that the slightly colder weather of autumn is approaching.

Lisbon takes the quiet opportunity to wrap her arms around her favorite mug and inhale the nutty aroma of her usual brew before taking a much needed sip. It's only when she's closing her eyes again, relishing in the warmth of the liquid, that she hears the soft footsteps up the stairs and a moment later sees Jane rushing into her room, holding a plate in one hand, a cup in another and a newspaper under his arm.

The sight of the usually composed consultant looking a bit harried is enough to make her smile, but add to that the sight of him in a ripped t-shirt and jeans, barefoot and looking like he belongs nowhere except her bedroom sends a different kind of warmth through her body, not the one caffeine usually supplies.

"Good morning," He sets the plate on the nightstand, drops the newspaper in her lap, and crawls on the other side of her with his cup in hand, placing a clumsy kiss on her cheek.

She notices then that the t-shirt he's wearing is unfamiliar and he smells faintly of an aftershave she knows he doesn't keep in her bathroom, which means that while she slept he'd gone home.

Her stomach tightens at the realization and her palms burn slightly from the heat of the mug, but she shoves the unpleasant thoughts to the back of her mind before Jane notices and responds with a kiss of her own,

"Hey, you're quite busy this morning," she motions to the plate stacked with French toast, but Jane just shrugs,

"Couldn't sleep, and besides not all of us choose to waste away our days off in bed," His teasing smile and mischievous gaze are meant to distract her from the mention of his persistent insomnia and even though Lisbon really wants to address this issue, really wants to talk about all the other things that are on her mind, she rationalizes yet again that a beautiful morning like this should not be spoiled.

So she plays along, reaching over to the plate, and playfully stuffing one of the triangles in his mouth.

"Hey, that's for you" Jane exclaims as soon as he finishes chewing and Lisbon can't stifle the giggle that erupts when she notices the speck of powdered sugar on his nose.

She wipes it away and smiles, taking a sip of coffee, "I had to know if it was edible or not. I didn't even know I had powdered sugar at home."

"You didn't," Jane replies, taking another bite, "I did some grocery shopping today. I honestly don't know how you survived before me."

Lisbon rolls her eyes, "I survived just fine, but you know if you're so inclined, you can do the rest of the housework I've been neglecting, maybe vacuum or something."

"Hmm, always in control aren't ya? Already putting me to work at 10 in the morning? Well I hate to break it you but I've got some other plans for you and me today, little one."

"Okay, first of all do not call me little, and second of all, I am not spending my rare day off engaged in one of your debacles." Her comments are light hearted and Jane simply shrugs off her protests.

"But you are little my dear, so there really isn't much you can do about that. Besides I happen to find it very cute so you shouldn't be so perturbed by it, but I had no idea you thought Christmas shopping was just _my_ debacle. I prefer to think of it as one of the crazy Yuletide traditions worth partaking in, so c'mon get ready, we should leave soon, beat the Sunday traffic."

"Christmas shopping?" Lisbon exclaims, "It's not even Thanksgiving yet, it's way too early."

"Nonsense, woman. I know you prefer to do your shopping the day of, but I'd much rather be prepared, so hurry up. I'll be downstairs; maybe I'll even dust a little, if you're good."

He winks at her before crawling out of bed, the infectious grin and sideways glance in place as he pads out of her bedroom, particularly immune to any opposition on her part.

Lisbon takes another sip of coffee and falls back in her bed, groaning as she feels the last vestige of peace slowly fall out of her reach.

***

Despite how many times she's taken this trip, her breath still hitches ever so slightly upon the first view of San Francisco from the Bay Bridge.

The glorious skyscrapers against the clear blue sky are a sight to see even for someone who lived here for as long as she did, and Lisbon indulges in the beauty of it all. Her hand unconsciously falls to her cross, fingering the trusted pendant as they get closer and closer to downtown.

Some of her best years were spent living in a small North Beach studio, diligently working her way up the career ladder, learning the ropes from the inside, and while it all seemed so exciting when it was happening, there were many nights where her faith was the only thing that kept her going through the loneliness and the painful memories.

The cross, one of the only pieces of jewelry her mother ever wore, was given to her when she was 12 years old, and since then she's worn it every day on the same gold chain, which is why she finds it highly suspicious that this morning she couldn't find the necklace anywhere.

She'd looked for it for a while but eventually gave up, putting the pendant on another chain she had. She'd been so tired the night before, she couldn't recall whether she left the chain elsewhere and now it wouldn't leave her mind.

"Hey, since this is sort of your turf, I thought you could show me around later." Jane's voice ultimately distracts her and she sends him a small smile,

"Yeah, I'm thinking in retaliation for dragging me to a crowded mall on my day off I am going to torture your taste buds. Give them a challenge."

A look of surprise crosses Jane's face for a split second, but his competitive nature overpowers any hesitation, "You are so on, woman."

He gives her a quirky smile and turns his attention back to the road, while Lisbon continues to stare out the window, her fingers wrapped around the cross unconsciously, a slight grimace on her face whenever she touches the chain.

Jane doesn't believe in God, hasn't in a very long time. He didn't grow up in a devout household, no customary grace before dinner, or Sunday trips to church. For him, this standard faith doesn't hold any self evident truths, doesn't instill hope or morale. The little faith he had in something greater than him was buried along with his wife and child.

Ever since then he's never paid much attention to religion, dismissed it for what he thought it was, a way for people to justify the horrible things that happened to them. That seemed to hold true until he met Lisbon and became quite infatuated with the cross she wears.

She's one of the most rational, level headed people he knows and her faith, although tested throughout her childhood, still remains strong. Although she doesn't go to church, Jane knows she sometimes prays, and when they sit down to dinner, he knows she's itching to say grace, just to acknowledge God in some way.

It's those moments when he realizes how different they are, how while tragedy struck her at an early age and became a permanent fixture in her life, the faith instilled in her from birth has never left her. Jane saw this when he first met Lisbon, when he first became intrigued by her, and he sees it now as she unconsciously strokes the cross.

He catalogues the observation and focuses on driving; listening to Lisbon's sporadic directions as she navigates him through the city's downtown, bustling with people. Eventually they find a parking spot not too far from the street full of shops that ends with a large shopping center, right in the heart of San Francisco.

Jane can't even remember the last time he visited the city, but can definitely recall several times he made the trip here with his wife. His mind is suddenly overcome with memories of what seems to be another lifetime, another woman with willowy blond hair and soulful blue eyes smiling, dragging his hand along, calling to him with excitement.

"Jane."

Another voice breaks through his reverie and Jane blinks, realizing he stopped in the middle of the street during his musings.

The sunshine blinds him somewhat but when his eyes zero in on Lisbon's face, watching him with curious green eyes, black curls floating in the breeze behind her, a sense of strong guilt assaults him, hitting with a force that makes it hard to breathe.

He shouldn't be thinking about his past, shouldn't indulge in these little memories, they don't bring relief and their existence inevitably brings hurt to the woman who has become the only form of comfort he craves.

Jane knows he will never part with his past, will never fully come to terms with the consequences of his actions, and there will always be a special place in his heart for the two women who first introduced him to true happiness, but he knows for Teresa's sake, he has to at least try to move on, has to appreciate the second chance he's been given.

So before the brunette can give him another pointed stare, Jane reaches for her hand, catching her off guard. He pulls her along, hands still intertwined as he gives her a smile and says,

"C'mon, before it gets too crazy."

And Lisbon has no other choice but to follow.

***

Even after months of dating, holding hands still feels strange for her.

Hand holding is reserved for couples who wear matching sweaters and send out joint Christmas cards, not for two colleagues who are trying to hide their courtship from the entire CBI headquarters.

By now, she's certain the guys on the fourth floor and some of Bosco's team have a pool going for when the "are they or aren't they" scenario will come to fruition, and since she's always adhered strictly to rules, it rubs Lisbon the wrong way that she's breaking a cardinal regulation so effortlessly.

It doesn't help that between the two of them, she's the only one concerned about their superiors finding out about their activities outside the office and Jane takes up every opportunity to tease her about it, test her limits.

She glances at his hand gently wrapped up in hers as they stroll down the busy street lined with different shops and despite the hesitation she feels, Lisbon can't deny the warmth that radiates from his skin and the protection she feels from the firm but soft grip.

The inner female in her is elated as she watches the looks other women give Jane as they walk past and on impulse she forgets about every hesitating thought and squeezes his hand, causing him to cast a side glance at her.

"Feeling possessive, sweetheart?"

His abilities can sometimes be the most irritating thing about him.

"Bite me," Lisbon snaps, trying to cover her blushing cheeks with a curtain of hair and a quick tilt of her head. Alas, Jane's soft chuckling in her ear as he pulls her closer reminds her that she can no more hide from him than she can fight the feelings he's evoking in her.

"Be careful what you say woman, because I just might."

She whips her head around, giving him a cautionary look, but he just laughs and gives her a soft kiss on the cheek, sending goose bumps down her back.

It's a familiar feeling as of late, but she still can't get used to it, no more than she can get used to the hand holding.

They stop at the end of the block, and Jane places his hands on her shoulder, playing with a strand of her hair,

"So I have an errand to run that requires extreme discretion. Can you keep yourself busy for about ten minutes?" He glances at his watch but Lisbon just raises a perfectly sculpted eyebrow at him, crossing her arms over her chest in suspicion.

"If you're about to embark on one of your expeditions…" Her voice trails off as Jane gives her a disapproving look,

"Why must you always be in work mode, darling? It's not good, don't you trust me?"

He gives her his best puppy dog look, his sea colored eyes softening just the right amount and his lips in a perfect pout.

It's a loaded question and she's certain he realizes the enormity of what he's asking, but in typical Jane fashion it's concealed behind a front, a façade that she doesn't think they should try to crack at the moment so she just rolls her eyes and shoos him away.

"Ten minutes and then I'm leaving." She gives him a stern nod and he's already taking off down the street, pulling something out of his pocket,

"You're not going anywhere, woman. I've got the keys."

And then he disappears behind the corner and Lisbon finds herself shaking her head in the middle of the street, seemingly talking to herself.

She softens as soon as he's gone, thinking herself too suspicious of him, always thinking he's up to something, so she tells herself to relax and wanders down the street, window shopping mostly.

She's not looking for anything in particular, having picked up some things for her brothers and even some presents for her nephews, but one particular shop catches her eye.

It's one of the only stores on the block that doesn't have some sort of fancy display and isn't showing off the latest fashions or electronic. Instead the bulk of what it's selling is in the back of the room and Lisbon gravitates towards it, admiring the old pieces of furniture and antique jewelry sets.

The store somehow reminds her of Jane, which leads to the question of what she could possibly give him for Christmas. She hasn't really thought about it and suddenly feels very guilty, because it hasn't even entered her mind.

Just as she thinks about the blonde man, something catches her eye in the glass display and without hesitation, she motions the man behind the counter over, instructing him to take out the piece she has her eye on. She examines it for a few moments and then pays for it very quickly, realizing she doesn't want the man in question to catch her in the middle of purchasing his Christmas gift.

Lisbon thanks the clerk and walks briskly out of the store, only to find Jane sitting on a bench opposite the antique shop, smiling cheekily at her.

"Impromptu purchase?"

"You could say that,"

She plays coy, not divulging any information, trying to act as nonchalant as possible so he doesn't figure out what just happened and after a few moments of his penetrating stare, Lisbon breaks the silence,

"So, are you ready for the greatest eating experience of your life?"

Jane seems to perk up considerably at the mention of food and it reminds her of Rigsby so she lets out an involuntary giggle as he gets up,

"Lead the way,"

He takes her hand as they walk back to the car and this time she doesn't even flinch, actually lets herself enjoy being held, being led somewhere by the blonde man at her side…

***

"How'd you find this place?" Jane asks as they descend a flight of poorly lit stairs.

Even though it's dark, he still sees Lisbon's eyes sparkling as she looks over her shoulder at him,

"It's one of the only places still open at 4am. The entire precinct used to come here when we worked over time; I still crave their garlic chicken sometimes."

They walk into a large room bustling with activity. The main dining area crowded with people eating, waiters serving, and a mix of different Asian dialects gives the restaurant a general feeling of chaos.

Lisbon grabs his hand and leads them to a small table off to the side. Immediately, a teenager comes up with two menus but the brunette just shrugs them away, giving out the order without looking at the plastic tablets.

After listing off a couple numbers, the senior agent settles back in her chair and smiles somewhat deviously at him. Jane raises an eyebrow but doesn't say anything, instead choosing to admire her in her element. He's eager to learn more about her beyond what she's like at CBI, and a part of the reason why he drove them down to San Francisco was in hopes that he'd get to know more about her past.

He knows even she's not immune to nostalgia and being on familiar turf, where she got her start, must get her talking. He just never anticipated Lisbon would be so eager, so open, dropping tidbits of old stories here and there as they shopped, and now taking him to a restaurant where she probably spent many a night joking with colleagues and blowing off steam.

His hand makes it across the table and clasps hers, his thumb finding the customary pattern across her knuckles, the softness of her skin melting into his fingertip.

He listens as she divulges little details about her past, seemingly mundane aspects, but to Jane they mean the world, because it shows she does indeed trust him, doesn't censor herself around him. Despite how long it's been since that trust has been tested, he still feels a rush every time it's confirmed that she holds him in confidence of certain things no one else knows.

The waiter interrupts her when several dishes are placed in front of them followed by two cups of tea. Jane looks at the assortment finding nothing strange about each plate, identifying several he's tried before, but when he looks up at Lisbon, she's still smiling and pushes a smaller plate towards him.

"So Patrick Jane, have you ever had this before?"

Her green eyes challenge him as she pulls out the chopsticks and he looks down at the plate, his eyebrows drawn up, "Spicy pigs' ears, I'm impressed. I didn't know you were that adventurous."

"Well not even you know everything about me" She quips back, "but we're about to find out if you're man enough to try it."

"Teresa, you know how dangerous it is to threaten a man's masculinity."

"What are you going to do about it, huh?"

The competitive air still hangs around them but instead of digging into the food; Jane moves closer and pulls her into a kiss.

She's never been comfortable with public displays of affection, but she's come to learn that Jane thrives on it. She figures it has something to do with his showmanship streak but instead of tensing up like she usually does, Lisbon melts into the kiss, running her hand discreetly up his thigh.

However, just as she sinks deeper into the embrace, Jane abruptly pulls back.

Expecting to see a sated grin on his face, Lisbon is confused when she's met with a cautioning look and no trace of a smile, "Don't freak out." He whispers against her cheek, before scooting away from her, his face transformed into the expression Lisbon usually sees at crime scenes or interrogation rooms.

"What the hell-…"

But her thought is cut off by a voice behind her,

"Teresa, Jane what a coincidence…"

She see the beginnings of a devilish smile on Jane's face, so she gives him one last futile, pleading look before turning around to smile at the man looking at them,

"Sam, what are you doing here?"

***


	13. Part XIII: Smile

**Running Through Red Lights**

Disclaimer: Don't own anything…lyrics by Death Cab for Cutie.

Rating: M

Spoiler: Red Badge, Black Gold and Red Blood.

A/N: Okay, totally self indulgent chapter. The characters were not cooperating but I have a feeling no one will object *insert devilish grin*. I am sorry for the delay in posting though, unfortunately finals and the Secret Santa challenge had taken up all my time. I'll try to post again sometime next week, but hopefully this will tie you over. Thank you for all your wonderful reviews and a special thanks to Frogster for being the 200th reviewer!!

***

Part XIII: Smile

"_I cannot guess what we'll discover  
When we turn the dirt with our palms cupped like shovels  
But I know our filthy hands can wash one another's  
And not one speck will remain…"_

"That was so beyond unnecessary!" She mutters forcefully under her breath as soon as they step out into the street.

"Nonsense, it was completely necessary. It would be extremely impolite not to extend Agent Bosco the invitation to have lunch together, the food had just arrived."

The teasing intonation in his voice irritates Lisbon just enough for her to speed up her walk, weaving through the foot traffic. Chinatown on a Sunday afternoon is horribly busy. Passersby have little appreciation or understanding for leisurely strolls, and if she wasn't so bothered by what has just occurred, she would find it extremely comical watching Jane make his way through the swarm of people in an effort to catch up with her.

"You didn't have to be so _cordial_. It's not like Sam was particularly excited about it."

He finally catches up with her at a red light and Lisbon casts a look in his direction, finding him slightly out of breath. The sight softens her a bit and Jane seems to pick up on that.

"No, he didn't, but his lovely wife welcomed the opportunity, so why not."

He coaxes another involuntary smile from her, but as soon as the crosswalk light turns green, she walks away again, drifting in the crowd of people. This time, however, Jane strolls as pleasantly as possible, no longer as worried about Lisbon being actually upset with him as he was before.

Even though she's reluctant to meet his eye and has flinched away twice from his touch, her eyes are not as cold and vacant as they were when she was actually upset with him that afternoon in the jail cell and every day after that until they reconciled.

Instead, her green eyes still retain their sparkle and he knows she's avoiding physical touch, because Bosco's appearance reminds her that their relationship is still a secret, perhaps the worst kept secret in all of CBI, but a secret nonetheless; and Jane knows that she may not be ready for that to change just yet.

He catches up to her again, touching her shoulder. She doesn't flinch this time but her weary stare doesn't fade,

"C'mon Patrick, you can't possibly make me believe that you didn't get some sick joy out of that."

Jane pretends to be shocked, placing his hand on his chest for extra emphasis, "Sweetheart, you wound me. Why would I get any sort of pleasure out of making Bosco uncomfortable by chatting up his lovely wife? Who do you think I am?"

Lisbon rolls her eyes, her lips twitching upward from the sheer absurdity of his comment,

"You're incorrigible, you know that?"

Jane laughs softly, "Oh, I can't help it that the man hates me and his wife now wants to exchange casserole recipes with me."

"Right," Lisbon shakes her head in exasperation, "As if Sam doesn't have a reason not to dislike you. You broke into his office and tried to steal his work files."

"It's not like I didn't ask for them first."

His voice trails off while he shrugs innocently, and Lisbon lets out a noise akin to a growl. Jane wants to tell her how adorably cute she is when she's angry, but the flash of fire in her green eyes deters him.

"Teresa…"

"Keys please." She stares him down in defiance and Jane is keenly aware that he's slightly intimidated by a woman a foot shorter than him. Theoretically, he doesn't have to oblige, he can continue to tease her incessantly, wear her down, and before, when she was just his boss and he was just her consultant, he probably would have but now it's different.

Now that they're in a relationship, Jane realizes how careful he has to be, how sometimes going against his very nature, fighting against the selfish existence he's been living prior to this, is almost as crucial to making things work between them as accepting his past would be. Although he isn't completely certain he will ever master the latter, he relinquishes the keys almost effortlessly, because the subsequent smile on Lisbon's face and her slightly more relaxed body language are worth more than his arrogance or thirst for triumph.

It's a simple action, but it catches her off guard. Lisbon is obviously surprised by how quickly he concedes, but Jane just smiles to himself, glad he can still surprise her in a good way from time to time.

The car ride is silent but not wholly uncomfortable. Lisbon steals periodic glances at Jane, knowing that he hates silence, prefers commotion, movement, noise to perfect stillness and quietude. He doesn't even fiddle with the radio as he usually would or keep pressing various buttons to irritate whoever the unlucky driver is, usually herself. Instead, he stares out the window, a contemplative look on his face.

She's not sure what he's thinking, but returns her attention to the road, the driving relaxing her considerably and giving her a chance to reflect on the crazy turn of events. Seeing Bosco so unexpectedly at first gave her a distinct feeling of dread and his narrowed glances in her direction all the way through the impromptu lunch made Lisbon feel like she had been caught with her hand in the cookie jar.

She really despises when Sam looks at her like that, as if he is somehow disappointed with her. Perhaps that's why she's always been so adamant about keeping her relationship with Jane out of the office, because she doesn't need those disapproving glances or anyone questioning her credibility, both as an officer of the law and as an individual.

Jane never makes her feel that way. Over the years what has endeared him to her, what has made her suffer through each and every one of his antics is the simple notion that he views her as an equal. He may not agree with her way of solving cases, wholly averse to anything involving rules or boundaries, but he respects her, thinks her a capable and effective leader. Up until now, she wasn't sure if he was merely giving her the impression that he thought this way of her, but ever since he warmed his way into her heart, he's proven time and again that she isn't just a subordinate to him, someone he can use and discard.

More than that, today in his own weird way, Jane proved to her that he does respect and understand her. The lunch could have been much worse. Jane could have used everything at his disposal to make the situation awkward for her. He could have made references, asked Mandy inappropriate questions, made Bosco as uncomfortable as ever, but he didn't. He still managed to hover more than usual and make suggestive comments that made her blush into her tea, but he still watched for any sign of true discomfort and annoyance from her, which Lisbon noted right away.

She also noticed Bosco watching them, their every move and interaction. His critical eye did not escape her and perhaps that's what unnerved her more than Jane's precarious attitude. She wasn't sure what she'd been expecting Bosco's reaction to be in regards to her relationship with Jane, but she'd never truly entertained the thought, never realized there was a possibility of them meeting unexpectedly outside work and her confronting the situation unprepared.

It's quite ironic to her actually. She's fought so hard to keep her personal life out of her work place that she forgot her coworkers existed outside the CBI walls too. This gives Lisbon an uneasy feeling, but only because when confronted with the situation, her first instinct hadn't been to run away from Sam's prying eye or to shy away from Jane, rather it was to mediate whatever conflict would emerge between the two. However, she never even contemplated denying her involvement with Jane or being ashamed of it.

The thought itself makes her smile, a small shiver traveling down her spine to settle deep in her belly. It seems the blond man has slowly begun to change how she thinks about certain things in her life, and although it should terrify her that Jane is partially disabling her defenses and forcing her to face illogical fears, she's exhilarated by it, so much so that she lets out an involuntary chuckle, jolting the reclined consultant.

"Shall I assume that that adorable laugh of yours is an extension of an olive branch?"

He looks like his usual insufferable self, putting forth the air of calm and cool, the corner of his mouth turned up and his blue eyes watching her in interest. She should be the responsible and mature adult, be honest about her feelings and let him know that maybe her irritation with him is a bit misplaced, but hell, seeing the know it all consultant staring confusedly at her is too entertaining an opportunity to pass up.

So she fixes him with a stern look, green eyes narrowed at him in feigned disbelief, pretending to still be upset with him.

"Okay, I'll take that as no." Jane declares in a somewhat defeated tone, before pouting like a child again and looking out the window.

Lisbon smirks to herself.

This will be fun.

***

Lisbon thinks she's finally mentally exhausted Jane by the time they arrive back at her apartment, but he gets out of the car with a smile, helps her with her bags wordlessly, and walks into her kitchen intent on making tea as soon as they walk in.

She hangs up her jacket and switches on the lights, watching him as he fills her ancient kettle with water, bypassing the new electric one her aunt sent her for Christmas last year, preferring to boil tea the old fashioned way.

She's seen him prepare tea a dozen times, but never gets tired of observing him, especially since he's become as familiar as he has with her kitchen, taking out his customary tea cup and tea packet from their respective cupboards without much thought.

Lisbon gets so lost in admiring his movements, she doesn't realize he's finished until he brushes past her on his way to her couch, grabbing the remote and putting his feet up on the coffee table in an almost defiant way, a clear message that he's not going anywhere.

Lisbon rolls her eyes as he takes a satisfying sip from his tea and watches her intently, wondering if her resolve has weakened. However, she merely gives him an exasperated sigh in return, maintaining the pretense,

"I'll be upstairs doing laundry,"

And before Jane can object, she walks upstairs, picking up her purchases on the way, reminding herself to hide the small bag from the antique store somewhere away from Jane's curious eyes.

***

It's over an hour and two loads of laundry later that Lisbon realizes the apartment is too eerily quiet. She no longer hears the muted noises coming from the television or the occasional rustling in the kitchen.

It makes her slightly uneasy and suspicious, particularly because Jane has made himself incredibly scarce, not even venturing into the laundry room to see what she was up to. His unusual restraint of natural curiosity forces her to drop the t-shirt she's folding and pad into the hallway.

She peers over the edge of her stairs, finding the living room and kitchen empty, the television on mute and a single teacup on the coffee table, so she goes back into the corridor, this time not missing the light coming from behind the closed bathroom door.

She walks up to it, raising her hand to knock but the door swings open before she can, revealing Jane on the other side, smiling widely at her, obviously having anticipated her arrival.

"What are you doing in here?" Lisbon asks, hands crossed over her chest, trying to appear as nonchalant as possible. Jane leans luxuriously against the door frame, his usual smirk and all knowing glance in place.

"You know it's not fair to pretend being upset with me for so long, wounds my ego."

For a second, she pretends not to know what he's talking about but when he fixes her with a pointed stare, she sighs,

"Well what gave me away?"

"Aside from the fact that you can never stay mad at me for too long, I know you would never ever leave me to my own devices if you were truly upset. Fortunately for you, I realized this a little too late and had already prepared my apology to you."

He moves away from the door frame and Lisbon just smiles at him as she peers inside,

"You drew me a bath?" she raises her eyebrow at him, but can't hide her excitement. She's never really told him how much she enjoys taking baths, but then again, Lisbon isn't surprised he already knows, probably caught on when he realized she had four different types of bath salts in her medicine cabinet and a similar variety of bubble baths.

Jane nods and lets her step into the steamed up bathroom. She inhales the soothing floral scent emanating from the tub and it relaxes her instantly. She doesn't turn around when she feels strong arms wrap around her waist and a soft kiss on her neck. Instead she reaches back and runs her fingers affectionately through Jane's curls, a guilty pleasure of hers that's not so secret anymore.

The low rumble of his laugh makes her smile, "So I can assume you'll be accepting my apology then?"

"Yeah," Lisbon replies, finally stepping away from him to take off her shirt, "and since you worked so hard, I think you should join me."

Her green eyes sparkle mischievously and Jane just laughs, shutting the door, "Now that's a peace offering I can't refuse."

***

The warm, soapy water and therapeutic aroma of her favorite bath salts are usually enough to release any tension in her body and any negative thoughts Lisbon might have. However, add to that the soft but encompassing body she reclines against and she thinks this is as close to heaven as one can get.

Resting her head against Jane's torso, Lisbon lets herself finally relax, her body completely submerged under a plateau of bubbles, limbs intertwined with the man behind her, currently with his arms wrapped around her waist, occasionally tickling her sides in an effort to keep her awake.

Her soft chuckle reverberates off the walls every time Jane's fingers trace over a particularly sensitive spot and she's thought more than once about retaliating, but the relaxation in her muscles doesn't permit more motion than is required to lie comfortably in her soapy-water-Jane cocoon, thinking about nothing and everything.

Jane observes as she absentmindedly runs her fingers through the surface of the bath, bubbles dissolving and making tiny ripples, distorting his reflection. He runs his hands up her shoulders, realizing the water has cooled and there're goose bumps spread over her soft, supple skin.

Although the bath is an effort on his part to help her relax and enjoy herself, when Lisbon shifts, creating delicious friction in her movement, Jane is reminded yet again that above all he's a man and that besides melting his slightly ragged heart, this petite brunette has the effect of a resuscitator on his senses, jolting a fire in him that reminds him of the most primitive pleasure known to man.

"You want to get out of here, water's getting cold." He murmurs against her neck, unable to resist dropping a kiss on her freckled skin.

"Mmm, just a little longer, feels so good."

His mind is already clouded by the vision before him, but paired with the soft breathy voice eliciting the plea, it's a deadly combination.

He can't see her face, but is almost certain judging by her languid movement that Lisbon has absolutely no idea what she's doing to him; either that or she's a damn good actress.

Jane tries to be respectful, not too forward, still dreading careful waters around her so to speak, but his hands seem to have a mind of their own as they dip below their hold on her waist and trace over her navel, before descending.

Her sharp intake of breath alerts him to her awareness but since she doesn't stop him, he doesn't still his movements; instead Jane moves his other hand to her torso, tracing the underside of her breast, fingers ghosting over sensitive flesh as he continues his ministrations.

When his other hand disappears between her thighs, Lisbon suddenly feels like she's weightless, body anchored by the hands roaming over her skin and the water rippling slowly around her. She doesn't think, doesn't focus on anything, her mind completely blank as familiar sensations overwhelm her senses.

One hand instinctively clutches onto the rim of the tub, trying to brace herself against the heat building in her belly, as her body reacts to Jane's touch, one that she's been privy to for some time now but has never grown accustomed to.

It's as if with every time he touches her, he finds a new untapped nerve, a new way to tease and torment her into oblivion, leaving her completely defenseless against his seduction and with no desire to fight him.

Her heartbeat escalates and she feels Jane's ragged breath in her ear as his mouth travels over her neck, settling on her pulse point; gentle bites to her skin making her back arch and her entire frame shake, creating tiny waves around them.

Her movements become more involuntary, simply responding to his strokes, and with every shift of her body, Jane shivers, seduced involuntarily by the sensuous and gyrating movement of her body against his.

The soft sounds expelling from her lips and the rise of blush over her cheeks spurn him on, hands working in tandem with his lips as he spills kisses on her shoulders, grunts muted by her skin as she spasms against him, her release quickly approaching.

Lisbon feels the pressure build and finds herself unable to stop it. She's powerless against the gentle licks of fire traveling across her skin, finds no inner resistance against the anticipation building inside her.

And when she feels the precipice near, her hand instinctively seeks out the soft mess of curls behind her and she tilts her head just enough to meet Jane in a bruising kiss. Her final moans are silenced by his tongue as the ripples of pleasure coarse through her body, strong arms keeping her warm as the jolts of bliss subside.

They don't stop kissing for a while after, lips meeting in a prolonged languid embrace as Jane twists her around in his arms, slippery flesh making him moan.

Eventually, Lisbon opens her eyes, breathing in deeply as she rests her forehead against his, the cold water no longer an issue as she stares into the deep blueness of his eyes, surprised to find behind the glint of lust an intensity that makes her swallow.

She wraps her arms around his neck, the slightly rounded formation of her tub allowing Lisbon to straddle his lap. He doesn't rush her, doesn't arch his hips to meet hers, even though the ache building inside him is becoming difficult to control. He groans against her skin though, running his hands up and down her back, his fingers tracing her spine and leaving shivers in their wake.

There's no urgency in their movements and no words are exchanged. Instead Lisbon moves just a tiny bit closer, until there's no semblance of space between them and with painful slowness sinks fully into his lap; a low grunt emanates from him as Jane buries his head in her shoulder.

It doesn't take long for the pressure to build again, but this time Lisbon watches the man beneath her as they move together, bodies gyrating to some elusive rhythm neither can identify. The confines of the bathtub do nothing to lessen the intensity of their coupling as Jane matches the motion of Lisbon's hips with his own thrusts, the push for dominance succumbing to the delicious sensations igniting his nerve endings, making him relinquish control to the woman pressed against him.

Despite her desire to concentrate, to indulge in observing Jane when he's at the brink of release, finding him at his sexiest when there're no barriers to hide behind, no intricate walls he has to put up to conceal raw emotion, the stirring in the pit of her belly returns with full force, body arching as Lisbon braces herself against his chest, short nails leaving pink indentations on his skin.

The feeling of weightlessness returns, sensations that drove her to the brink just minutes before reawakening her body once again. This time the knowledge of Jane's impeding release only spurns Lisbon on. His hands almost bruise the skin of her hips when he jerks upwards one last time, leaving her powerless to stop the heat spreading from her core.

His name rolls of her tongue in the intensity of the moment and it snaps all of Jane's restraint, pushing him over the edge, spindles of pleasure coursing through every fiber of his being as he holds Lisbon flush against him in an effort to control the almost violent spasms of his body.

Lisbon holds him tightly until she feels him relax against her, hands no longer clutching her in a death grip but rather soothing the spots where there will surely be an imprint of his fingers later on.

Jane looks up at her apologetically, but Lisbon just smiles running her fingers through his damp curls and leaning in for a gentle kiss.

"I'm sorry." He says softly, kissing the tips of her fingers after they caress his cheek.

It's obvious his words extend beyond the physical ramifications of their lovemaking, but Lisbon refuses to have him continue to believe he has anything to apologize for.

"Don't be, you were actually behaving quite well today." She informs him cheekily, hands running up and down his arms in an effort to deter the goose bumps spreading on his skin.

Jane cocks an eyebrow at her, "Your low expectation of me is quite inspiring, thank you."

The sarcastic inflection in his tone makes Lisbon giggle and the cold water around them makes her shiver, but she makes no move to separate from him.

"It's not my fault you act like a five year old most of the time."

"Hey, you're in no position to tease me, woman." Jane threatens, and when Lisbon fixes him with a challenging stare, he changes their positions rather stealthily, pinning her beneath him and proceeding to tickle her senselessly until she can't handle it anymore.

He relents for just a moment but Lisbon is prepared and flicks some water in his face in retaliation until he moves off of her, grinning like a Cheshire cat from the other side of her bathtub.

He looks so carefree, almost childlike, unburdened by the weight he seems to carry permanently on his chest, visibly free of any demons that may haunt him. Lisbon commits this image to memory, certain that if she can somehow keep Jane smiling like that, at least every once in a while, then she can handle any judgment or criticism that may come her way, particularly any that have to do with the man in front of her, the one she's pretty certain she's falling in love with...

***


	14. Part XIV: Undermine Me

**Running Through Red Lights**

Disclaimer: Don't own anything...lyrics by Foo Fighters.

Rating: M

Spoiler: Red Badge, Black Gold and Red Blood.

A/N: Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays, everyone! I hope all of you are enjoying this holiday season and are spending it with those you love. As a present, here's an extra long chapter for you guys! I hope you enjoy it and thank you for sticking with the story so far!

***

Part XIV: Undermine Me

"_I've got another confession to make  
I'm your fool  
Everyone's got their chains to break  
Holdin' you…"_

Lisbon never thought that one of the perks of sharing her bed with an insomniac would be grilled cheese sandwiches at four in the morning.

However, as she sits at her kitchen table, a steaming cup of cocoa between her palms, she can't help but smile, as the man in front of her flips another sandwich on the skillet.

She watches Jane contently, sipping on her drink, trying very hard not to stare.

Some women find their men at their sexiest in a three-piece suit or wearing nothing at all.

She's been privy to both, but still finds Jane most irresistible in stripped flannel pajama pants and a t-shirt, in her kitchen, moving around like he belongs nowhere else.

It's these moments of pure domesticity, just the two of them doing something normal together that remind her of the admission she made to herself.

She's known for a while that she was falling in love with him, but to actually admit it is an altogether different concept.

Her eyes unconsciously fall on his wedding band as he expertly places the food on two plates, but the feeling of dread that she usually associates with memories of his family doesn't come.

In fact, if she thinks about it, she realizes it's been a while since she felt like she was competing with a ghost. There are moments of course, when he's not thinking and lets a memory slip passed his lips, but she can't begrudge him that, will never allow him to feel embarrassed or ashamed about discussing his family.

After all, not talking about them, not having things out in the open will not make them go away. She's still keenly aware that Jane has goals, plans regarding Red John that she doesn't necessarily agree with, but she's trying something new now.

Instead of ruminating on everything that can go wrong (and probably will), she chooses to indulge in little moments of happiness, soak up all the joy she can, not waste her energy fighting against an elusive future.

She may be stupid about it, may be going about this completely the wrong way, but no one will ever call her an eternal optimist. So instead of fixing things that have yet to be broken, she decides on having a little hope, a little faith in the man currently cooking for her.

Besides, there are more immediate concerns on her mind, a situation that can break this little domestic oasis before anything else has the chance to.

"Okay that's it woman, I don't like your silences. Care to tell me what's going on?"

Jane knew instinctively that something was bothering his bedmate when she didn't fall asleep for a while after they lay down.

On a regular day, she would be out like a clock almost as soon as her head hit the pillow. He loves that about her, that she can fall asleep and he can spend the whole night with her warm body pressed against his; a comfort even in his waking hours, keeping the nightmares at bay, giving him a chance to relax when sleep doesn't come easily.

And after the long day they had and the bath later on, he figured she would be sleeping as soon as he pulled the covers over their sated bodies. That did not happen.

Instead, the pixie next to him kept tossing and turning for most of the night and when her stomach began to growl, instead of teasing her mercilessly about it (which he plans to do later on), he decided to make them both something to eat and hopefully get her to talk about what was keeping her up.

At first, Lisbon hesitates explaining, but it's brief and almost negligible, because she realizes at once, now that she's let Patrick Jane into her home, into her bed, and into her heart, there can be no more secrets between them.

"It's Bosco." She says, not missing the brief look of aversion on Jane's face, but she ignores it.

Some things just can't be helped and Jane's evident dislike of the older detective is not only reciprocated but also something she won't go near with a ten foot pole.

"What about him?" Jane asks, and Lisbon can't stifle the giggle that escapes as she watches him bite into the sandwich and grimace instantly, realizing it's too hot.

"Impatient, aren't we?" She teases but Jane just narrows his eyes at her and tells her not to change the subject.

She takes a bite, chews, then sighs into her cocoa, "he's going to tell Minelli, and then he'll reassign you for sure."

Lisbon isn't sure what she's expecting but Jane's open mouthed, obnoxious cackle just makes her roll her eyes and makes her want to throw the sandwich at him.

"This isn't funny you know, no one else will tolerate you. Maskowitz will petition your transfer the second the idea is even entertained and god, I can't even imagine what Rollins would do. I bet he'd just put in his letter of resignation right away, especially after that stunt you pulled with the joint operation."

Through her rant, Jane can't contain his smile. He secretly loves when she gets riled up about something, usually pertaining to him. Her cheeks get flushed and she talks a mile a minute, but what gets him most is her eyes. Those green orbs become luminous, beacons of light in the darkness, a myriad of emotions flashing across her face as she tries to get her point across.

Nevertheless, he notices that she's extremely tense, the slight frown on her face and the crease in her forehead telling signs that this really concerns her. So Jane reaches across the table, running his thumb over her knuckles in a familiar soothing motion that he knows she likes,

"Relax dear, he won't tell."

Lisbon raises an eyebrow, unconvinced, "Oh really? How can you be so sure?"

When a sly smile spreads over his features, Lisbon rolls her eyes,

"And I swear if you tell me it's because he's in love with me, you'll be wearing hot cocoa on your head."

"That's not where I was going, but even if he is, which I'm certain of, there's nothing much he can do about it now."

The overprotective inflection in his tone amuses her, "Oh yea? How come?"

"Because," Jane says as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, "you're mine now and I don't share."

For emphasis, he leans over across the table and kisses her playfully on her nose, that heart melting grin in tact. Normally, Lisbon is opposed to men acting so possessively, but it seems Jane has taken down most of her barriers, made her act slightly out of character.

It's that very thought that worries her. She knows she's been far too lenient with him at work ever since the Hardy incident and far more so since they've become involved, and she knows that if for nothing else, Bosco can make his concerns known to Minelli just on that basis.

And now that he knows about them, there's even more reason for him to voice his opinions.

"You're still worried." Jane assesses, catching her eye over the rim of his mug.

"Can you blame me?" Lisbon retorts, picking up her empty cup and heading to the sink, "I mean he already thinks you've corrupted me at work, can you imagine what he must think now that he knows we're together?"

She turns on the faucet, watching as it fills the empty mug with water, then pours over into the sink. She's so focused, she jumps slightly when Jane comes up behind her, arms wrapping around her waist, chin on her shoulder.

"I think you underestimate yourself."

His candid declaration laced with admiration makes her shut off the water and turn around in his arms, giving him a quizzical stare, "What do you mean?"

"I think you don't realize how great of an agent you are. I think you're constantly watching your back, worried someone will undermine you somehow and I understand where you would be concerned after the Carmen incident, but you should realize that Bosco was the one who groomed you. He saw your potential and now sees what you've made of yourself and he respects you for it. He may not like me but he still thinks you're a straight arrow despite my horrible influence on you so at the very least, he'll come to you first before going to Minelli, which I still think he wont."

Lisbon isn't sure what to make of his words, they're certainly sweet, but she's not persuaded.

She sighs against him, resting her forehead on his shoulder as she wraps her arms around him, letting the heat from his body envelope her, shield her momentarily from all her worries.

"You're not convinced, are you?" He murmurs knowingly against her ear and she lets out a weak laugh, "no."

"Stubborn woman," Jane says affectionately, lips brushing against her forehead.

She snuggles deeper into his embrace, suddenly feeling fatigue. The clock on the microwave reads 4:30 and her body is apparently catching up on how late it really is.

"Tell you what. If Bosco does go to Minelli, I'll make a huge show of it. I'll tell everyone I seduced you and blackmailed you into being with me with something wicked from your past."

Lisbon looks up at him incredulously, but her green eyes are sparkling with amusement, a small smile stretching her pale pink lips, "You're crazy." She murmurs, as if she's still surprised that it's Patrick Jane in her kitchen, grinning at her, holding her.

She reaches up and gives him a very light kiss, before trying unsuccessfully to stifle a yawn, and Jane decides that her fears can wait until morning.

They walk back up stairs and Jane settles into bed with her, feeling like he could actually manage a few hours of sleep himself. When Lisbon curls her body into his, leg draped over his thighs with her head tucked under his chin, a favorite position of hers as he's come to learn, Jane finds himself thinking about her worries.

He realizes very quickly that he never even once contemplated Bosco outing them to Minelli, but the thought doesn't scare him as much as it should.

He knows if he's off Lisbon's team, he loses his link to the CBI, any actual connection to Red John, and although this should concern him, Jane doesn't feel an impending sense of dread.

He's managed to survive the case being handed over to Bosco, and he has no plans to stop his search, but there's a strange sense of relief that hits him when he thinks about being unable to have access to the Red John files.

This strange liberation should distress him, but it doesn't, because in the deepest caverns of his mind, he knows something has changed. He's gotten a glimpse into a life not consumed by revenge and he finds that he can breathe more easily.

So while Lisbon falls asleep concerned that their relationship will be exposed, Jane lies awake, smiling, thinking that it wouldn't be so bad not to hide his affection for the woman who's slowly chipping away at the shield vengeance has created around his heart.

***

Despite his complete assurance that nothing will happen, to give Lisbon peace of mind, Jane decides they should ride into work separately.

So he rises just a few hours later, sliding out of the warm bed reluctantly, then after scribbling her a note, he gets dressed. He presses a soft kiss to her bare shoulder and leaves the apartment, hoping she won't be too upset that he left without waking her up.

As it turns out, timing doesn't seem to work in his favor, and he can't help the smirk on his face when he pulls up into the CBI parking lot only to find Lisbon getting out of her SUV, obviously dreading what she thinks will be a messy day at work.

When she looks up, he's already walking towards her with two portable cups in hand; a smile on his face which causes her to roll her eyes and sigh,

"Did you plan this?" Lisbon asks as soon as he approaches, and he can't resist pulling her in for a quick, clandestine kiss, finding the scowl on her face adorable.

She swats his arm in surprise, "Jane, this is so not the place."

She hisses at him but he ignores her, "C'mon, it's time for me to prove to you that Bosco is as predictable as I think he is."

Jane hands her the coffee in his hand. Then he watches her take a sip and close her eyes contently, letting out a moan of appreciation that sends a shiver down his spine. The things she does to him without even knowing. But then the moment is gone and her eyes are trained on his suspiciously,

"You know a part of me really wants Bosco to tell Minelli just to prove you wrong, know it all." She appears serious, but the way she jabs his chest with her elbow and walks just a little ahead of him lets Jane know she's just teasing.

So just before they get out of the elevator, he playfully pinches her side and whispers in her ear,

"You so do not want me to be wrong."

His baritone voice evokes images from the night before and she sucks in her breath, in disbelief that just the slight intonation in his words can have her body humming.

Nevertheless she looks at him over her shoulder, eyebrow raised in question, "You sure about that?"

"You don't want me off your team; you'd miss me too much."

"Unlikely," she scoffs in response, but Jane just smirks besides her, pressing his body just that much closer, dropping a kiss to her exposed neck. Her involuntary gasp and the way she unconsciously leans back against him are all the confirmation Jane needs to know that she'll be thinking of him all day.

It's a little evil certainly, but seeing her blush as she moves away from him when the elevator door opens is just too priceless. There's nothing like a riled up Teresa Lisbon to brighten up his day.

He catches up to her in the hallway, "So eager to get to your office?" He asks and Lisbon rolls her eyes, murmuring something that sounds like, "thorn in my side."

Jane grins, a retort at the tip of his tongue, but the two of them stop next to her office to find Bosco standing in front of them.

"Sam, good morning."

Even though he catches her off guard, Lisbon remains courteous and Jane literally feels her body tense besides his, as if she's ready to move away from him at any moment.

"Teresa, Jane," The older detective nods in greeting and Jane mumbles something resembling good morning to him.

He's certain Bosco wants to speak to Lisbon alone and hopes Jane takes the hint and leaves, but for whatever reason, the consultant feels like being extremely obnoxious today. He sees how stiff Lisbon has become in Bosco's presence and it unnerves him greatly that the older agent has so much inadvertent influence over her.

She's strong and capable and very independent, but in front of her old mentor, Lisbon reverts back to her old self, to the insecure, precocious rookie, ready to play by the rules and obey orders.

It upsets Jane, because Lisbon doubts herself in front of Bosco and she shouldn't. It also makes him feel like he can't reach out to her, like she pulls away from him, as if she's ashamed of being associated with him somehow.

He knows he's being irrational in his beliefs, but can't shake the feeling that if there's one person who can take Lisbon away from him, it's Bosco and the dislike he has for this man who took Red John away from him is only amplified by that fact.

So despite the tension falling over the trio, Jane stands silently, sipping his tea, rolling back and forth on his heels and looking around, trying to appear as casual as possible.

Finally, Lisbon breaks the silence and looks over at him, "Jane, do you mind giving Bosco and me a moment?"

Of course, it would be her who would speak first. It confirms what Jane already knows.

She's too proper, too embedded in this notion that she has to defend her career.

Although these are the traits he loves most in her: her dedication to her job, her loyalty to something as intangible as justice and fairness, in this moment, he wishes she could be more rebellious, have more of a devil may care attitude.

Just to see her reaction, Jane wants to lean over and brush his lips over hers, but he knows that would be crossing the line, so he settles for the gentle, barely perceptible brush of his hand over her lower back as he moves past them.

"I'll just be over on my couch if you need me," He says, a bit too polite, letting her know he's not very happy that she's chosen to give Bosco the time of day.

Lisbon nods and unlocks her office, Sam walking behind her and closing the door.

Jane lies down on the brown recliner, setting his tea on the table next to him, and closes his eyes.

The bullpen is quiet, not even Van Pelt is in yet so he has a few moments of reprieve.

Despite what Lisbon might think about Sam, how well she thinks she knows him, Jane knew from the moment Bosco met them in the hallway that he did not intend to go to Minelli at all.

At best he wants to talk to Lisbon to warn her, caution her against any further entanglements with Jane, and Jane finds himself more concerned that Lisbon will listen to Sam rather than any threat that he may get reassigned.

***

Lisbon really hoped that as soon as they walked into her office, Bosco would start talking. Alas, the detective is way too polite and waits until she puts her things down and is situated at her desk.

Now, he takes a tentative seat across from her and Lisbon tries very hard not to feel that uneasiness at the pit of her stomach. She may be sitting on the other side of the desk, and her name may still be on the placard on the office door, but Bosco's penetrating gaze is enough to make her feel like she's just a rookie cop again in for a stern reprimand.

The thought angers her not only because she wishes she wouldn't feel this way around her old mentor, but also because she'd seen the flash of disappointment in Jane's eye when she dismissed him.

His knowing how vulnerable she feels in front of Bosco doesn't feel right, it makes her doubt herself even more, but she puts these thoughts to the back of her mind, saving them for later as she focuses on Sam.

Bosco watches her for a moment and when she clasps her hands over her desk and gives him a tight smile, he returns it, trying to relieve the apparent tension in the room.

"So what can I help you with?" Lisbon asks rather diplomatically and gives herself a pat on the back for containing her anxiety.

Bosco clears his throat and looks at her before speaking. He's not as good as Jane at reading people but he's been in his fair share of interrogation rooms and can spot someone masking their discomfort from a mile away.

He's also known Lisbon for almost a decade, so when she can't resist twisting the ring on her finger, a nervous habit she'd picked up years prior, he knows she's anxious and that worries him.

He dislikes the situation, loathes it in fact, doesn't want to add to her anxiety, to be another reason she has to watch over her shoulder, defend her professionalism. He doesn't want to be another Patrick Jane for her.

He didn't like the guy when he first met him. He was far too pretentious, too much of a showman, a nicely wrapped package with nothing inside besides anger and a thirst for revenge, but Bosco would be a fool not to notice the way Jane's entire demeanor changes whenever he was around Lisbon.

It's no wonder Lisbon is the only one who can restrain the consultant. Sometimes, the man is like her shadow, trailing besides her, always a little too close for comfort, his gaze just a tad bit inappropriate, as if he's thinking wicked thoughts about the brunette detective.

That's why Bosco shouldn't have been surprised when he saw the two outside of work, acting like a normal, happy couple just out for a bite in between holiday shopping. He shouldn't have been so caught off guard by the genuine smile he'd seen on Teresa's face as Jane leaned in to kiss her, but he was.

Bosco had been genuinely shocked when he saw the two.

Later that night, as his wife chatted on and on about how lovely Patrick was, Bosco realized it didn't surprise him that Jane was smitten by Lisbon, but it was the fact that she let him in that bothered Sam so much.

It made him aware that the ambitious rookie he trained and shaped into the detective sitting across from him now is as much of a mystery to him as Jane.

He could say with certainty that he knew who detective Teresa Lisbon had been but he has no idea who Senior Special Agent Teresa Lisbon is and that worries him.

"I just thought I'd share with you some of my concerns." He begins and he sees Lisbon's stoic demeanor falter just a little.

She must've been waiting for a confirmation that this is what he wanted to discuss and her calculated gaze is evidence that she's ready to retaliate if need be.

"Concerns about what, exactly?"

Her diplomacy is chipping away and she's powerless to stop it. Her Mother Bear persona is coming out slowly and she's ready to defend herself and others (Jane) if it comes to it.

"You know about what, Teresa. I want you to know the only reason I am talking to you instead of Minelli is because your relationship with your consultant is not exactly against CBI protocol."

"Oh really?" Lisbon nods, mostly for affect, "So if it was, you'd have tattled on me by now? That's mature."

Her scoff irritates him, but he doesn't show it, compensating for her emotional reaction with a stern, professional disposition, "Let's not skirt the issue here. I had my reservations about Jane's methods of police work a long time before I realized you two were involved, but now I'm even more concerned."

The way he says 'involved' makes Lisbon want to throw her paperweight at him, but instead she bites the inside of her cheek to deter a frown and continues to listen, "I can understand more clearly now why you let him get away with more than other agents here-…"

"Are you really implying that? For your information, Sam my personal relationship with Jane is new and I let him "get away with more" way before that, and it's not like it hurt the unit's track record. We still close more cases with Jane than we ever did before."

"Although, that may be true-…" He begins, but Lisbon cuts him off, rubbing the bridge of her nose in exhaustion.

She wants this to be a cordial conversation. Despite everything, she wants to be okay with Sam, wants the old relationship they had, but she realizes that any hint of friendship is impossible with her former mentor, because he does not see her as his equal.

While she wants to move forward, he's still living in the past, still concerned for her, still trying to be somehow involved in her career, her personal life, and while his gesture is sweet and she knows that he means well, his condescending tone and pedantic demeanor are way too much for her.

Her relationship with Jane is personal and so far it has not affected her work or his for that matter.

They still bicker like 12 year olds and he still manages to piss her off. He still doesn't follow protocol and she still yells at him for his antics, but they get the job done, and everything else should be irrelevant.

Lisbon suddenly realizes that she doesn't need to be here, doesn't need to be talked down to, and she understands that Bosco has come here not as a peace offering or as a warning, but because he knows there's nothing he can do to stop her relationship with Jane.

He admitted himself it's not against the rules, and since Minelli and he don't usually see eye to eye, he knows Virgil will most likely shrug at any suggestion of Bosco's to separate her and Jane. So in essence he's come to talk to her as a last resort, his only chance to ensure that Jane doesn't manipulate her too.

These thoughts run through her mind so quickly, Lisbon doesn't even realize she's interrupted Sam until she's speaking,

"There are no 'althoughs' here, Sam. You said yourself my personal relationship with Jane is not against CBI rules and until it starts to interfere with my unit's work to the point that my boss becomes concerned, then and only then will there be reason to discuss this. Otherwise, my personal life is off limits to you and you need to accept that."

She says it all in one breath, leaving them both bewildered. She takes a tentative sip of her coffee and refuses to tear her eyes away from Bosco, even as he tries to process what she said.

They both realize very quickly that since he's been back to the CBI, Bosco and her have engaged in two very heated arguments and both of them were centered on Jane. Lisbon swallows back her doubt, the same feeling of uncertainty she gets around Bosco when she thinks about Jane.

She doesn't want to fight with Bosco, doesn't want to have these drained talks but it seems like now their relationship has shifted.

The power balance has tipped in her favor and Bosco has a hard time understanding that she's not an inexperienced cop anymore, that she's worked her way up using her own wit and intelligence and has made her own decisions.

Lisbon sincerely hopes that's all Bosco's concerned about, that this isn't some vain attempt to dissuade her from being with Jane for personal reasons. She doesn't even want to venture there, entertain the thought that this could be a territorial thing.

She watches the flash of emotions on the other detective's face and reclines in her chair, taking a deep breath. She knows she should leave it at that, but she can't, she needs to say everything else because she's likely never to have the opportunity again.

"I'm not a rookie cop anymore, Sam. You need to realize that."

Her soft tone and the simple truth catch the bald agent off guard. He looks at her, gray green eyes communicating his struggle with this very issue.

"I do understand that, Teresa. I just never thought-"

"You never thought what? That I could be capable of sticking to my principles and following rules and still have Jane on my team?"

She closes her eyes for a split second, hoping that's all Bosco is concerned with, but his brief silence is too long, too indicative of the fact that it's not the entire reason he's worried.

"I just want you to be careful." Bosco replies and when Lisbon catches his eye, her heart sinks.

His vague response confirms everything that she's been afraid of. This isn't about her career and Jane's impact on her ability to do her job. This is about so much more and she doesn't want to believe it.

"I appreciate your concern, Sam, but I'm a grown woman, and I don't need you to be worried about me. I think I've proven that I can take care of myself."

She wants to say more, but feels like anything else will cross the line, will be an inadvertent justification of her relationship with Jane, her rank and she's sick of it, doesn't want to fall into this trap.

All of the sudden the man in front of her represents every criticism she's ever gotten and every sideways glance she's ever received when people learned her rank or assumed that she and Jane were somehow entwined beyond their working relationship; therefore, the knock on her door has never sounded better than it does at this moment.

"Come in," Lisbon calls out instinctively, her anger quelling when Cho sticks his head into the room, his glance dancing between the two detectives.

"Sorry to interrupt but we've got a case boss."

His words are music to her ears, granting her the escape she needs. Lisbon stands up right away, accepting the folder Cho gives her, as he tries very hard not to smirk at his boss's eagerness to get on the case.

Nevertheless, after Lisbon peruses the file and gives him directions to round up the team in the bullpen for a debriefing in five minutes, he nods and slips away, thinking he doesn't want to be in the middle of the rest of _that_ conversation.

"We'll pick this up later?" Bosco stands up and looks at her rather hopefully, and despite the anxiety Lisbon feels, she knows she has to make a decision now, consequences be damned.

"I don't think that will be a good idea." She says softly and Bosco immediately narrows his eyes at her, a brief flash of hurt crossing his features.

"Teresa."

"I think from now on our conversations should be strictly limited to anything work-related, everything else, any concerns you have, you can go to my superiors."

She's probably as shocked as Bosco is that she's even uttered this phrase, but it seems to have the desired effect. The older detective straightens up, looks directly at her and nods, then he bids her good luck and walks out of her office.

For a moment, Lisbon feels at a loss, defeated, mad at herself for being so harsh but angrier at her older mentor for not having faith in her.

Isn't her current position enough proof that she's a competent police officer?

Apparently not, she thinks with a bitterness that's new and unwanted. Nevertheless, Lisbon knows she has a job to do and she begins gathering her stuff, clipping her badge to her belt and making sure the gun is secure.

Her mind is in disarray, she can't quite comprehend what has just happened, what her motivation was for practically severing ties with one of her oldest colleagues and friends.

She sits down for a moment, trying to gather her wits before facing her team, but gets the unusual feeling that she's being watched. Lisbon looks up then to find a pair of concerned sea-colored eyes looking at her through her open office door and she doesn't look away.

Jane gives her a small, discreet smile, aware that they have an office full of people separating them, but this small gesture, just his little way of letting her know that he understands the unpleasant interaction she's just had, makes all her trepidation disappear.

Unlike Bosco, who looks at her with thinly veiled doubt, she sees admiration in Jane's eyes, a look of respect and confidence that has nothing to do with their life outside CBI walls.

A look that's been there since the first case they worked together.

So she returns his smile and walks into the bullpen, realizing that all the respect she needs and wants is that of her team and the incorrigible consultant who stands firmly behind her. A protective force that reminds her that above all else, inside this building, she is Special Agent Teresa Lisbon and who she is at home, with him, is no reason for anyone to undermine her.

***


	15. Part XV: Shades of Gray

**Running Through Red Lights**

Disclaimer: Don't own anything…lyrics by Gavin DeGraw.

Rating: M

Spoiler: Red Badge, Black Gold and Red Blood.

A/N: Hello everyone! I hope everyone had an amazing New Year! I have to say I am absolutely floored by the response I got for the last chapter. I had an unprecedented amount of reviews and I still can't believe it. Thank you so much for still sticking with the story and letting me know what you think with each new chapter. I'd also like to thank Mentalistlover for whom I couldn't leave a review reply, for reviewing the last two chapters. I hope you guys enjoy this part as well. It was very fun to write, especially the ending. Thanks again!!

***

Part XV: Shades of Gray

"_I'm tired of looking 'round rooms wondering what I gotta do  
or who I'm supposed to be  
I don't want to be anything other than me…"_

It's been almost nine months since Jane was temporarily blinded by the truck explosion, but aside from the everlasting memory of how soft Lisbon's skin is, he remembers a few other things that are now indispensable knowledge.

For instance, he doesn't need to open his eyes to know that Van Pelt is currently slumped at her desk, expelling heavy sighs, as she taps her pencil against the edge of the computer monitor, chin resting on her elbow as she swivels from side to side on her chair.

Jane also doesn't need to look at the rest of the agents in the room to know that Rigsby is playing with a Rubix cube and that Cho is in the middle of a particularly intense scene in one of his latest science fiction novels, judging by the way he flips each page with more fervor than the last.

Sight is a powerful sense, but Jane has found that hearing is an invaluable skill. It's also quite cumbersome that his is so keen, because it not only alerts him to the frequent movement in the bullpen, but also reminds him of the lack of sound coming from Lisbon's office.

He tries to distract himself by focusing on the activity around him, but his ears still strain to hear something from behind her door, anything to give him a sense of what's going on inside.

Still, he hears nothing, nothing that would indicate a heated argument is taking place.

Though his rational side tells him that it means nothing, his irrational, unruly side, the one that plays tricks on people and comes up with various unorthodox ways to solve murders tells him to worry, to be nervous, giving him this unwelcomed feeling of tightness in his stomach that he isn't sure how to handle.

Because, Patrick Jane doesn't get nervous, he doesn't worry. He's confident, perhaps to the point of arrogance, charming to the point of frustration, clairvoyant to the point of irritation, but never insecure, never uncertain about an outcome.

He definitely doesn't spend his time wondering if somehow while he's lounging here on the couch, seemingly without a care in the world, behind a closed door, Sam Bosco is slowly but surely breaking down Lisbon's defenses and taking her away from Jane.

The ache that accompanies that thought is overwhelming. It threatens to consume him, destroy him faster than any vengeance he can or does feel for this faceless beast who tortured and killed his family, destroyed his world six years ago.

It occurs to him in a split second that if Bosco succeeds, if he somehow persuades Lisbon to sever personal ties with him, Jane isn't sure how he'll manage to survive that. He's channeled all his hurt over the loss of his family into well justified revenge, a path of retribution by all means possible.

But that's Red John.

That's a cold blooded killer with an agenda and a sadistic appetite for suffering.

Even if he can rationalize his dislike for Bosco, he can never hate him, can never channel the hurt from losing Lisbon to a hatred of Bosco, because in the deepest crevice of his mind, in that part of him he hasn't dare explore yet, Jane knows Bosco is right.

He's right that in being with him, Lisbon runs the risk of losing her credibility (a portion of which she already has), and also runs the risk of getting hurt, because like an unspoken weight between them, the issue of Red John still lingers, reminding Jane that they're still on opposite sides of this moral battle.

That particular thought sends goose bumps down his spine, a coil tightening around his heart as he think about the outcome of actually catching Red John. He's thought about it for months, ruminated on this very issue from the very first kiss they shared, but he can't bring himself to think bout the 'after'.

The fear that he could lose someone he cares for so much in the process of avenging the death of his loved ones has the power to destroy all his best laid plans. So Jane is somewhat grateful when Van Pelt accidentally drops her pencil, because the sound unintentionally tears him away from his thoughts.

He sits up, eyes open, sight clear, the day is bright and it's a welcomed relief that despite the darkness of his mind, the rest of the world seems untouched by his anxiety, by the torturous games his psyche plays on him from time to time.

His eyes only briefly fall on Lisbon's office, his ears straining to hear something again.

_Silence._

His shoulders slump just a little, but he quickly recovers, smile plastered on his face like he's going into battle, while constantly telling himself that he shouldn't expect anything.

After all, Bosco and Lisbon are the two most calm and polite people in this building (with the exception of Cho and the janitor) so it's no wonder that whatever showdown they're having in there (and he hopes it's a big one), it would be handled with as much discretion as possible.

Yup.

That's his theory and he's sticking to it.

The thought actually perks him up considerably and he sidles into the break room, set on making himself a cup of tea.

Somehow, Van Pelt made it there before him and offers to put the kettle on for him.

Jane nods wordlessly and watches her, detecting her slightly deflated posture and the crease in her forehead.

Considering that it's close to holiday season and their work load has dramatically increased, if Jane had seen any other agent in this way, the sight would not be unusual, even so early in the morning. However, if there is one thing he's learned about the redheaded agent in front of him it's that even if she's tired she'll never show it, and even if she's having problems in her personal life she'd never let them seep into her work.

When she finally hands him his cup of boiled water, not trusting herself with dunking the tea bag just right, Jane decides to probe, if only to distract himself from his own anxiety.

"Everything alright, Grace?" He asks softly, but it still catches the redhead off guard.

She looks up at him, eyes a bit wide, no doubt uncomfortable with the idea of Jane knowing anything about her moods. Regardless, the blond gives her a megawatt smile and slowly, she softens under his gaze.

"Oh, I'm fine, Jane. Thanks for asking though." She pours herself a cup of coffee from the percolator and adds the perfect amount of cream. Her back is suddenly a bit straighter and her frown is less noticeable, as if she's detected why Jane realized she was upset.

"You know," Jane takes the opportunity to slide closer to her, "just because you've corrected your posture and minimized the look of anguish on your face does not mean I believe you."

He takes a tentative sip of tea and watches Van Pelt narrow her eyes at him suspiciously, the slight blush rising on her cheeks an amusing sight to the consultant.

Sometimes, he finds getting a rise out of the younger agent is far more entertaining than annoying Lisbon, if not for any other reason than that the rookie still hasn't gotten used to his snooping.

At times, it almost feels like Lisbon plays up her part, already expecting his teasing and constant determination to make her blush, whereas Van Pelt still seems genuinely shocked when he identifies things about her that others would seemingly pass by or ignore.

"You're going to have to try harder, dear. Or you can tell me what's on your mind. I can be quite the ear piece."

His lighthearted tone and strategically placed grin don't fool Van Pelt, as she rolls her eyes and moves away, actually walking out into the bullpen with a smile on her face.

Jane trails behind her, determined to weasel the information out of her.

For all her skittishness, Van Pelt doesn't seem too disturbed when she sees him perched on the edge of the desk in front of her.

Her annoyed sigh and slight frown don't deter him, if anything they spurn the blond on and he hums rather playfully, sipping on his tea and watching her, waiting for a response.

"Okay." She exhales loudly and sets her mug to the side, "you really want to know?"

Jane nods enthusiastically, "I wouldn't have asked."

Van Pelt actually smirks, taking a leisurely sip of coffee, "Yeah, right. You're probably just bored."

Jane pretends to be offended, but shrugs shortly after, "so what if I am? I still care. I prefer to think of you as the reminder of my youthful days and you don't seem as bright eyed and bushy tailed as usual today, hence I'm concerned."

Van Pelt raises an eyebrow at him, but the speech earns him a cautious smile, "alright, 'grandpa' Jane-…"

"Hey, I'm not that old." He interrupts, but Van Pelt just rolls her eyes, slightly more alert now that she has gotten a rise out of the consultant, instead of the other way around.

"Whatever you say," She supplies, but Jane doesn't relent, "are you going to tell me or not?"

"Fine, fine." Van Pelt sighs again, as if reminded of what put her in such a sour mood this morning, "promise you won't laugh?" she asks and Jane finds it somehow adorable.

Out of the corner of his eye, he notices Rigsby has stopped paying attention to his Rubix cube and is watching the pair with a slightly suspicious eye, his face unconsciously lighting up whenever Grace speaks.

The observation distracts him for a moment, but he returns his attention to Van Pelt, nodding in agreement.

"Okay, well my parents called early this morning. Apparently all airports within 50 miles of Davenport are snowed in; all the flights are either canceled or delayed, which means I probably won't be able to make it home for Thanksgiving and it'll be the first time I'm spending the holiday without my family."

Jane is momentarily speechless, a stab of something, some emotion he hasn't felt in a long time nicking his chest unexpectedly. He feels genuine concern for Grace now, sorry that he tried to make light of the situation when she has legitimate reason to be upset.

He doesn't remember the last time he didn't spend the holidays alone, but that standard shouldn't transfer over to Van Pelt, especially when he sees the evident look of disappointment swimming in her green eyes.

She mistakes his silence for something else entirely and rolls her eyes, trying desperately to retain composure, mumbling something under her breath about being foolish for telling him.

Jane snaps out of his reverie just as Van Pelt moves away from him, and he places his hand on her shoulder,

"Hey, I'm actually really sorry. Holidays are an important time to be with family and believe it or not, I can understand how upsetting this must be for you, Grace."

He gives her shoulder a gentle squeeze as Van Pelt looks up at him with kind, emotional eyes. She's sad but smiling, almost appreciative of his words but before she can say anything, Rigsby pops up besides Jane, having overheard the conversation.

His eyes lock with the redhead's and Jane feels like he's almost intruding on a private moment between the two but his natural curiosity and lack of things to do keep him in place,

"That does suck." Rigsby agrees, hand twitching at his side to comfort Grace properly, but restraining himself under Jane's prying eye, "if it's any consolation, my mother's decided to spend Thanksgiving with her boyfriend's family in Wichita, so I'm flying solo for Turkey day too."

Jane really isn't sure if it's Rigsby's presence or his commiseration that perks Van Pelt up but the agent's smile finally reaches her eyes, and he's about to slip away when Cho speaks from behind his paperback,

"At least your parents didn't abandon you for a singles' cruise like my mom did."

Cho's monotone voice and position behind his book don't change, which adds to the humor of the situation. So Van Pelt can't possibly stifle the giggle that escapes her mouth, even as she tries to conceal it with her hand.

Her laughter is infectious, because pretty soon Rigsby is chuckling and Jane finds himself grinning widely.

"Well even older people need excitement in their lives, right Jane?" The teasing only amplifies the humor and even Cho can't help the smile forming on his lips after Van Pelt's jib.

The atmosphere becomes so lighthearted, Jane almost forgets about what's going on in Lisbon's office, but is quickly reminded when the fax machine beeps and Cho, being the closest to it, retrieves the protruding document.

He surveys it quickly, but it's obvious even before he looks up at the remaining team that they've got a case.

Almost immediately, he's on his feet and headed to Lisbon's office, reminding Jane that unlike himself, Cho not only isn't very aware of the importance of the conversation going on inside, but also has a legitimate reason for interrupting it.

Above all else, they're both certain Lisbon would drop everything for a case, even the dreaded confrontation with her mentor.

Jane watches as Van Pelt prepares to leave her desk and Rigsby returns to his, to collect his badge and gun, but all that seems irrelevant as his eyes train on the door of Lisbon's office.

It seems like hours later, but Cho walks out, announcing a debriefing in five minutes and Jane panics for a moment when he realizes that no one else is following Cho out.

However, the door remains open and he doesn't even know he's holding his breath until Bosco walks out and the frown on his face, although very well concealed, tells Jane everything he needs (and wants) to know.

The older detective looks defeated and although Jane feels like a complete asshole for reveling in Bosco's dejection, he can't wipe the smile off his face. It's obvious now that whatever Bosco planned did not succeed, which can only mean one thing.

Suddenly a pair of soft, green eyes is on him and he couldn't frown if he tried.

She looks tired, drained, but there's an air of calm around her, as if a huge weight has been lifted off her shoulders and Jane can't tear his eyes away from her.

They're standing feet apart, a room full of people separating them, but the energy between them, that crackling electricity is unmistakable and he knows she feels it too.

And as she walks into the bullpen, a smile of returned confidence on her face, a sense of relief washes over him, a sensation so prevailing, Jane shuts his eyes for a moment.

He's not naïve, knows happy endings are reserved for fairy tales and fantasy worlds, but there's also a sense of triumph he cannot shake.

She's still here, still that powerful force, who obviously sees something to salvage inside of him.

Although Jane still considers himself beyond repair, he cannot deny that if they have overcome Bosco, a hurdle that threatened their stability, he has hope that maybe the ultimate test, the completion of his master plan, may not be as devastating to their bond as he originally thought.

***

As the day progresses, Lisbon feels the enormity of her conversation with Bosco sink in more fully as each hour goes by.

The reassurance that all she needs is the confidence and respect of her team wavers as the clock ticks by and the case becomes more and more complicated.

And then, when things cannot get any worse, she gets an unexpected phone call that puts her in such a foul mood, she skips lunch and locks herself in her office, head on her desk, mentally berating herself for running out of aspirin.

Her brother is apologetic as he explains his predicament and of course she understands, but still, she's left feeling bereft and vulnerable. She was hoping to speak to him, seek his support on the matter when she saw him in a days' time, but now that won't be possible and she doesn't feel like communicating her insecurities over a poor telephone connection that costs 50 cents a minute.

So she hangs up with him and gives herself a few minutes to sulk, knowing full well that if her team doesn't notice her less than spirited attitude, Jane surely will and that's a conversation she'd prefer to save for later.

However, when she hears a knock on her door, a very light, barely audible sound, she knows her self imposed hibernation will not last and murmurs, "come in," hoping it's anyone but the blond consultant.

She looks up to meet a pair of inquisitive sea-colored eyes and feels like sinking into her chair, completely unprepared to deal with Jane's probing.

And she knows he'll probe.

He has his game face on, only slightly fractured by the look of genuine worry, which she's certain will not overpower the curiosity he has about her conversation this morning.

Suddenly, she's quite irritated with him and he hasn't even said anything. Lisbon knows she's being irrational, but that doesn't stop the scowl forming on her face or her hands crossing over her chest in a protective manner.

"Can I help you?" she asks, tone slightly colder than intended.

Jane raises his eyebrows momentarily, a look of surprise crossing his features and Lisbon feels only a little guilty for being stern enough to put off the consultant.

"You know," he begins, taking a seat across from her, "You're quite grumpy when you skip lunch, so I suggest you take a break and grab the leftover grilled cheese from the fridge."

"Not hungry," Lisbon replies curtly, "we've got a case to solve."

Jane counters her with a narrowed look of is own, but it's not as intimidating to her. He's obviously trying to read her, but Lisbon doesn't move a muscle, doesn't flinch, hoping he'll give up.

"Right, well you seem to be doing a whole lot of investigating when I came in."

The comment, paired with his innocent smile, and shifting glance should piss her off even more, but if anything, it reminds her how exhausted she is, how much both her interaction with Sam and the unpleasant phone call have really strained her.

So despite her deepest desire to tell Jane off and throw him out, Lisbon sinks deeper in her chair and runs her fingers through her hair.

Jane seems to notice the change in her behavior and quickly moves around the desk, leaning against it now as he places his hands on her shoulders.

"Hey," He says gently, fingers tracing over her collarbone just barely, "what's going on? Talk to me."

The playfulness in his tone is gone, but her stubborn streak is still very much in place and even though it's Jane, she's still a bit weary about opening up, isn't sure she can stop at just a brief explanation of what's bothering her.

"I'm fine, just a crappy day that's all."

She doesn't look up at him; knowing just one glance into his blues will make her want to start talking and never stop. Yet, the bustle outside her office reminds her that they're in the middle of an investigation and now is definitely not the time to prove Bosco right and let her personal life interfere with work.

Jane seems to sense that she's no longer annoyed by his presence but more uncomfortable with it, so he moves his hands off her shoulders, but doesn't move away,

"If you tell me what's wrong, it won't interfere with the case, maybe it will make you feel better, more focused?"

She doesn't even acknowledge how attuned he is to her thoughts.

His words are tempting and being so close to him, even when he's not touching her is enough to make her want to crawl into his arms, settle herself in his lap like she does sometimes at home when they're watching TV or just lounging on the couch after a tough day at work.

The distinct ring of a telephone somewhere in the bullpen brings her back to the present and she raises her eyebrow at him, "more focused? I don't think so. Let's just get back to work."

She makes the move to get up but Jane stops her, his hold on her arm isn't stern or painful, instead it's gentle and Lisbon finds herself looking over her shoulder at him, no longer avoiding his deep blue stare, as it seems impossible to do so.

"Tell me what's wrong." He says straightforwardly and if she wasn't so emotionally drained, she'd laugh at the situation.

He always tells her how stubborn she is, but in reality, he takes the prize for being as persistent as he is usually, the current situation merely one example.

"I know it's not just Bosco, what happened?"

For the second time today, Jane finds himself inquiring a woman about her mood, but this time there's so much more invested, so much more at stake. He's spent all day anxious to speak with her, but knew from the beginning of the case that it wouldn't be a good idea to talk about personal matters with Lisbon in the middle of an investigation.

However, when she locked herself in her office, he'd had enough and decided to talk to her anyway.

Now, he wasn't leaving until she told him what was wrong and frankly, despite his assertion that Bosco is not at the root of the problem, that untapped fear lurking in the back of his head reminds him that it's entirely possible that despite the disappointed look on the agent's face earlier this morning, Lisbon is still contemplating whatever Bosco said.

After all, it's not like Jane knows exactly what they talked about.

That thought alone sends a jolt of anticipation through his entire being and he almost wants to shake the answer out of Lisbon. Instead, he settles for the soothing touch on the inside of her elbow, stroking her skin through the thin material of her shirt.

Meanwhile, Lisbon finds herself chewing uncharacteristically on her lower lip, torn between telling Jane to go away and telling him everything. He looks so worried, so uneasy and she realizes suddenly that although she knows what happened between her and Sam, Jane doesn't.

For all he knows, she's trying to find a way to let him know that he's being transferred to another team or worse, Bosco is going to Minelli and they'll have to choose whether his job with the CBI is more important than their relationship.

And the thought that he's been wrestling with this all day makes her anxious to dispel all his worries,

"Don't worry about Sam. You were right as always. He's not going to tell Minelli, at least I don't think so." she gives his shoulder a gentle squeeze, hoping it will alleviate some of the tension in his face, but his look remains the same.

"You think I came in here to find out what the outcome of your conversation was?" Jane asks, incredulity permeating through his words.

"Yes? Why else?"

Jane almost rolls his eyes, his face breaking into a half amused, half annoyed smile.

"God, woman you can be so dense sometimes. I came in here because I knew something was wrong with _you_. I already told you Bosco wouldn't tell Minelli anything, didn't I?"

His self assured words don't sit well with her for some reason. He makes everything sound so simple, so black and white, when it really isn't. If anything, her entire existence has been filled with shades of gray and is anything but simple.

"Yeah, you did." She replies dryly and this time when she slips away from him, he doesn't stop her, only watches as she moves to the chess set on the table, fingering the pieces on the board absent mindedly.

Silence falls heavily on them, Jane finding himself at a loss for words, unsure of what to say. It feels like they've created unnecessary tension between each other and he's not certain how to fix it.

For the first time since he got himself arrested, they're arguing about something personal, not even really arguing as the most important things are left unsaid.

He remembers the complete feeling of dread and loneliness that engulfed him for those few weeks before he showed up on her doorstep after her date with Wilkes and although there's no immediate danger of losing her, Jane can't bear the idea of feeling that way again.

So he stands up, and walks up behind her, whispering her name against her hair to get her attention without startling her.

She flinches ever so slightly, but turns around, looking up at him, green eyes shining with unshed tears, long black lashes vainly concealing the hurt and exhaustion swimming in her gaze.

He wraps his arms unconsciously around her, heart constricting at the sight of Lisbon so upset, Everything else, especially his childish dislike for a certain bald detective fades away as he engulfs her in his warmth, also allowing himself the brief moments of comfort as Lisbon lets her guard down.

Her heart is beating frantically against his, but he doesn't move, prepared to be the one that keeps it together for her, letting her know that despite whatever hell awaits them both beyond her office door, he won't ever be too far from her, at least not as long as he can help it.

"I'm right here, okay? I'm not going anywhere. I know something is bothering you, but you don't have to tell me. I can just hold you for a few minutes, okay?"

His voice sends chills down her spine, warm breath tickling her ear as he speaks intimately to her. It feels as if she's his entire world and although Lisbon has never been a romantic, being in Jane's arms always reminds her that there is a sort of magical feeling associated with knowing that you are a part of someone else's world, that you could be important to this other person, in a way that goes beyond simple need or circumstance.

Most of her life, she's been needed by others simply because fate had dictated it that way.

When her mother died, her father and brothers needed her, and when her father died, her brothers learned to rely on her even more.

In her career, others have depended on her because she proved to be trustworthy and competent, but she's never had someone truly want her not for what she could offer them, but just for whom she was, not some role she had to fill.

However, in this moment, she knows, feels it somehow that with Jane, she doesn't have to be anyone other than herself, anything beyond the woman she is, jagged edges and all.

He accepts her, wants her, sometimes in his own ridiculous way, protects her and even though others may think he should appreciate that despite his obsession with a sociopathic serial killer, she still chooses to be with him, Lisbon is grateful that Jane has chosen her.

She's not stupid.

She understands their relationship isn't perfect, that both of them come with a truckload full of baggage she doesn't even want to touch, but there are other things that catch her attention too, instill a sense of hope in her.

Like the fact that despite how vague she's being, Jane is still here, still holding her, his blue eyes still watching her with a hint of adoration in them. That alone make her wrap her arms tighter around him, cheek brushing against the smooth fabric of his vest as she lets him hold her for a few moments longer, before speaking.

"It's not Bosco. You don't have to worry about him."

"I wasn't worried." Jane lies, sweeping her bangs from her face.

It's completely untrue what he says, but figures for the time being, some things are better kept secret.

Lisbon fixes him with a pointed stare, the corner of her mouth twitching into a smile. Her look screams 'liar', but she doesn't press him about it, one of her qualities he appreciates.

She might be impatient when it comes to case work or the long line at the supermarket, but with him, she's always willing to wait and that's one of the things he admires about her most.

"It's just that," She hesitates, disentangling herself from his arms, "my brother, Christopher called today. He finally got approved for a grant to do an archeological dig in Morocco."

Jane doesn't interrupt her, understands that she would be overjoyed at her brother's success, not near tears over it.

"It's great. I'm really happy for him and all, but he leaves tomorrow morning from Denver, which means he won't be able to make it for Thanksgiving, and since Luke is with his wife's family this year and Anthony in Niger doing Doctors without Borders until January-…"

"You'll be spending Thanksgiving without your brothers again." Jane concludes and Lisbon looks up at him, nodding.

"Yeah"

Suddenly, everything becomes clear. Although Jane feels somehow less burdened that Bosco isn't the one upsetting Lisbon, it still hurts to see her so upset, especially about something like this.

He knows despite how dedicated she is to her job; Lisbon is even more devoted to her brothers.

After all, they're the only family she has and the only people that can relate at least partially to everything she's gone through in the past.

Although, their busy lives don't allow for much face time, with each one scattered across the country, Jane knows Lisbon makes it a point to speak with each one at least once a week, and send gifts on birthdays and holidays. He also knows she's closest to Christopher, not only because he's the closest to her in age but also because both don't have families of their own and find it easier to relate to one another.

He finally realizes he should have known all along that the only thing that can put Lisbon into such a depressed mood, (besides him of course) is anything going wrong with her family.

He just wishes he could something about it.

"I'm sorry," Lisbon sighs against his shoulder again, "I shouldn't distract both of us with this crap. We have a case to work on."

Maybe he _can_ do something about it…

When Lisbon tries to pull away from him, Jane grabs her hand and sends her a preemptive apologetic look.

Lisbon returns it with a surprised glance, especially when she sees the expression on his face.

He looks a little wild, as if a light bulb has just went off in his head. She's seen this look plenty of times before and it never lead to anything good, usually reprimands from Minelli and disgruntled suspects filing complaints, but before she can object, she feels herself being whisked out of her office.

The only thing that she comprehends as Jane literally drags her into the bullpen is the quick "don't kill me" that escapes his lips before he gathers the team's attention.

"Guys, stop for a second what you're doing. Lisbon and I have an announcement to make."

Rigsby looks up from the file he's reading, Van Pelt tears her eyes away from the computer, and Cho puts down the phone, all looking expectedly at the consultant and their boss, the latter of which tries very hard to maintain composure and not to appear confused as hell.

"I've just informed Lisbon that all of your plans for Thanksgiving have gone awry and as it turns out since we're all in the same boat, Lisbon has graciously decided to extend the invitation to host dinner at her place on Thursday, shall we say at 4ish?"

He shoots Lisbon a side glance, waiting for confirmation. He's obviously giving her a chance to back out, and she's about to, furious that he put her on the spot like that, but then she catches sight of Van Pelt's face as it lights up at the mention of Thanksgiving dinner together.

She knows the redhead doesn't have many friends in the area and if she's not going home, she'd likely spend it alone.

That seems to warm Lisbon up to the idea just a little bit and ultimately cements her decision,

"Yeah," she exhales slightly, refusing to look at Jane for fear that her desire to shoot him would overpower anything else, "Four is great. You guys know where I live right?"

Van Pelt nearly squeals in delight as she jumps from her desk and doesn't hesitate enveloping Lisbon in a hug.

The sight is quite humorous as the older woman, not used to so much affection from the rookie, stands uncomfortably in the embrace.

Van Pelt pulls away eventually and Lisbon gives her a very weak smile.

"So it's settled then. Thanksgiving is back on." Jane clasps his hands in triumph and Lisbon has the strangest urge to drag him back into her office by the lapels of his vest and beat some sense into him.

However, when she looks at her team, seeing each of their excited faces (even Cho doesn't seem opposed to the idea), Lisbon feels herself enveloped in a shell of warmth she only ever experiences when she thinks of her loved ones.

In that moment, she's reminded that her team is just as much her family as her brothers are.

Although Jane has inadvertently reminded her of that and lessened the weight on her chest, she's still not certain whether she wants to kill him or kiss him senselessly.

Oh, well.

She supposes that decision will have to wait.

For now she has a Thanksgiving dinner to plan.

Oh, and a murderer to catch.

Somehow, the first task seems more daunting...

***


	16. Part XVI: Rebirth

**Running Through Red Lights**

Disclaimer: Don't own anything…lyrics by Train.

Rating: M

Spoiler: Red Badge, Black Gold and Red Blood.

A/N: Not quite Thanksgiving, but I hope you like it anyway! Thank you very much for all your reviews. I start school on Tuesday but let's hope I'll have the next chapter up soon. YAY for a new episode tomorrow! *squeals in anticipation*

***

Part XVI: Rebirth

_"I knew when we collided  
You're the one I have decided  
Who's one of my kind..."_

Two days later her decision is cemented when she finds herself in an overly crowded supermarket wheeling a cart filled with enough items to feed a small army.

As Jane debates between sweet potatoes and yams, Lisbon debates between either shooting him or just knocking him out with the 16 pound turkey currently taking residence in her cart.

The vision of Jane being bludgeoned by frozen poultry distracts her for a moment, uplifting her with dark, morbid humor; but then, as a woman walks by with a screaming infant in tow, the brunette slumps herself against the railing of the cart, for the umpteenth time wondering how she allowed Jane to rope her into this.

Oh yea…by appealing to her sympathies and ambushing her with the hopeful faces of her team.

Damn him.

Apparently, her scowl deepens because Jane stops contemplating between two different cans of cranberry sauce to look at her,

"Are you frowning so profoundly, because I'm not including you in my selection of Thanksgiving staples?"

She raises her eyebrow in response, face showing just a hint of annoyance as she pushes the cart,

"I'll be at the check out line."

She makes the move to go but unsurprisingly Jane doesn't let her; soft touch on her arm and she turns around. She won't leave but it doesn't mean she won't be defiant every step of the way.

Jane almost kisses her in the middle of the canned food isle when he sees her huff and cross her arms over her chest. He doesn't though, fearing she really might smack him over the head with something if he does.

She's not a fan of public displays of affection, never has been, and though he's wearing her down slowly, today is not the day to do it.

They just closed the Markett case a few hours ago and he can see the fatigue weighing her down, so he can't begrudge her the frown, but he also won't let her go.

"Oh c'mon don't be so grouchy, woman. Here I'll let you choose the cranberry sauce, this one or this one."

He gives her a brilliant smile while extending the two cans of cranberry sauce. At first Lisbon looks at him in disbelief, angry that he's trying to act so oblivious when he knows how exhausted she is and that it's technically his fault she's here instead of at home in a bath or on the couch.

But then, out of the corner of her eye she sees a blond man walking with a little girl, no more than six and when she sees Jane look at the couple, an unmistakable longing in his eye, Lisbon instinctively reaches out and points to the can in his left hand.

Jane looks back at her, the vulnerability in his glance replaced by an amused glint as he weighs the can in his hand, "Hmm you chose the heavier one." He points out and Lisbon's back to being annoyed.

"So now you're going to criticize my choice?" she asks, hands suddenly on her hips.

Jane smirks at her, approaching a bit closer. Seconds later, the detective finds herself trapped between the cart behind her and the man towering over her, smiling knowingly.

"Don't think I don't know the murderous thoughts you're entertaining about me."

His finger taps her temple and despite her strongest control, Lisbon can't help the twinge of a smile forming on her lips as he grins at her.

There's residual sadness in his mischievous gaze but she pushes the observation to the back of her mind. This isn't the time or the place.

Instead, she rolls her eyes and grabs the can out of his hand, suddenly imbued with a new energy.

With the case and everything else keeping her busy, she didn't even realize that perhaps Jane didn't arrange this Thanksgiving dinner out of the goodness of his heart just to cheer her or the rest of the team up.

Now, she's confronted with the realization that he's probably doing this as much for himself as for her, tired of spending the holidays alone. Usually, when she spends the holidays alone, it's voluntary, and she suddenly feels incredibly guilty for taking her brother's invitation from last year for granted.

Even with everything that's happened to her in the past, Lisbon still can't fathom being completely alone, without family, and knowing that she's somehow responsible for that predicament.

The tightness in her chest is unexpected and she instantly grabs his hand, tightening her hold on him.

Jane looks startled for a moment, but when their eyes meet, realization sinks into his blues and Lisbon gives him a tentative smile. She sticks her hand into his pocket, pulling out the list of ingredients he assembled at work and looks at it for a moment, her hand never leaving his,

"C'mon, we still need to get the ingredients for stuffing."

Lisbon turns around, pushing her cart to the next aisle, expecting Jane to follow.

"Well someone's suddenly eager." He murmurs as he treads behind her, an adoring expression on his face as he watches Lisbon walk ahead.

"Don't make me test the thickness of your skull, Jane."

And she feels a sense of calm as she hears him chuckle subtly behind her.

***

He's in the middle of chopping carrots for the stuffing when he feels a pair of very warm and very familiar hands snake around his waist from behind, slipping underneath his t-shirt, and tracing the waistband of his pants as a cheek presses against his shoulder blades.

Jane stills for a moment, eyes closing as he indulges in the feel of a warm body pressed against his. It's been a while but sometimes he still finds the idea that he's actually here, with Lisbon, sharing more than just her bed a bit unfathomable.

Her fingers trace random patterns across his stomach, igniting dormant nerve endings, spreading heat all over him. She's so close Jane can feel her soft breath on his back as it leaves ripples in his shirt, the softness of her curves as she wraps herself around him.

It baffles him how strong she is, but yet how delicate; sometimes, he can't reconcile the woman who tackles down suspects twice her size with the one hugging him.

A woman of contradiction, he muses, and it brings a wide smile to his face.

"You turned off the alarm again,"

Lisbon murmurs into his back with a hint of disapproval and Jane immediately puts down the knife and pries one of her hands away from his torso, placing a freshly brewed cup of coffee in it.

He figures with the day they're about to have and how completely not on board she's been with this dinner since he ambushed her, he can at least be nice enough to fuel her caffeine addiction, even if he disapproves.

Lisbon takes the mug and Jane turns around, wrapping his arms around her.

"Thought you'd appreciate sleeping in," He explains, expecting her to frown at him again.

Instead, he watches as Lisbon takes a moment to inhale the sweet aroma of her usual brew before shooting him a smile in return, dimple and all.

"On any other day, yes but we have a dinner to prepare with t-minus seven hours to go, so what can I help with?"

She's looking at him expectantly and he's too distracted by her enthusiasm and determination to notice how messy her hair is or that she basically drowning in a pair of his sweatpants. Usually, Jane would find the sight adorable, considering how well put together Lisbon always is, but at the moment, he's too preoccupied with her sudden change of mood.

Yesterday, she was ready to inflict bodily harm on him with canned berries and now she's eager to cook with them.

He knows exactly what changed her perspective on this, but he's been trying to put it to the back of his mind, shelf it for safe keeping until after tonight, something he knows he'll have to deal with eventually, but not during a holiday.

He's usually so good at controlling his emotions but the night before, at the supermarket he lost himself in a myriad of memories and even though it was a brief moment, Lisbon caught it.

He knew immediately, because as perspective as she is, she can seldom hide the smallest shift of mood from him and the way she tensed and then relaxed, scowl dissolving into a half smile, confirmed for Jane that as easily as he could hide from everyone else, the woman before him is a rare exception.

Unconsciously, Jane finds himself without barriers and even though they haven't discussed it since, he knows there aren't any secrets between them.

It certainly scares Jane, because this new life he has, it doesn't allow for many true acquaintances, since guilt and shame seem to prevent him from being honest, but then Jane supposes even he isn't immune to the power of human connection, especially not one as strong and inevitable as the one he has with Lisbon.

Nevertheless, he's eternally grateful that she doesn't bring it up, doesn't mention what happened, doesn't probe him.

Perhaps it's this patience of hers, this quite strength and vigilance that makes her the exception, makes him want to open up, reveal everything without fear.

Jane must have spaced out a bit, because when he blinks again, he finds Lisbon looking at him with a raised eyebrow, a silence question on her face.

"Everything okay?" she asks a few moments later, placing her cup in the sink.

Jane nods, turning around to resume chopping, "yeah I'm fine. Why don't you go relax, watch TV or something. I got it under control."

He expects her to concede but Lisbon shakes her head, placing her hand on his to stop him for a moment.

"No, Patrick. I want to help."

She searches his eyes out and he finds himself lost in the concerned green orbs staring back at him, determined and not backing down.

He puts the knife down and kisses the hand resting on his wrist, smiling at her as he nods, "okay, why don't you start peeling the potatoes?"

"Sounds good," Lisbon returns his smile and assumes her post at the sink with a peeler in her hand.

Jane returns to his own task.

Despite the lavish Thanksgiving dinners he and his wife used to host for a slew of famous and sometimes fake friends, she never helped him in the kitchen.

Even through her protests, he would cook and prepare everything himself, allowing her to set the table and look her best during dinner; but now as he watches the pixie besides him struggle with an abnormally shaped potato that won't peel properly, Jane thinks it's nice to have a partner in the kitchen.

It's a lot less lonely that way.

***

The wallet sized picture is frayed at the edges, creased unnaturally.

Jagged white lines cross the subjects' faces as their smiles remain unchanged, staring back at her as she leans against the dresser, not sure what to make of her discovery.

The picture is small, but she can make out a playground in the background and the pink helmet the strawberry blond girl is wearing leads Lisbon to believe this was taken during a pivotal moment in the child's life.

More precisely, the first time she rode a bike.

Shutting her eyes, the brunette remembers the first time she learned to ride a bicycle.

Hers was a birthday present from her parents, a white and pink two wheeler with training wheels. She remembers the joy she got when she first rode it, a toothless smile on her face as her daddy, her _hero_ back then embraced and twirled her around after, their embrace just long enough for her mom to snap the picture of the father and daughter hugging.

In this photograph, Lisbon doesn't see a dark haired man lifting up his green eyed daughter.

Instead, she sees a smiling, blue eyed child in the arms of a beautiful blond woman, her eyes darker in shade but the same expression on her face. There's no mistaking the love and adoration in the mother's eyes as she looks at her child with pride.

The still frame is rather sweet, innocent, capturing a pure moment, unblemished by the darkness lurking beyond the camera, and as much as Lisbon would like to focus on that, on the fact that certain memories can be immortalized and kept as reminders of better times, she can't let it go.

This isn't just about the photograph, but about what it represents to the man who keeps it in the back pocket of his slacks, the very same ones that lie on her bed now.

The shower shuts off and Lisbon immediately closes her palm around the photograph, wishing she didn't feel so guilty for something that wasn't really her fault.

She didn't look through his pockets, it just fell out and despite that rationalization, she still feels a slight hint of panic when Jane emerges from the bathroom, immediately heading for the pants.

"Thanks for laying them out for me," He says, back turned to her as he puts them on.

For a moment, Lisbon thinks he won't even notice but midway through he stops, back muscles flexing before he buckles his pants and turns around, looking at her somewhat suspiciously.

Even before realization dawns on him, Lisbon steps forward and places the creased photo in his hand, swallowing deeply before saying, "it fell out of your pocket when I took them off the hanger."

Jane continues to watch her as he takes the picture, but instead of putting it back into his pocket, he walks over and places it on the nightstand, next to his wallet, keys, cell phone, and CBI card.

At first, Lisbon isn't sure what this gesture implies, but she knows Jane never does anything without purpose.

Then, when he looks at her, she realizes that this is his way of showing her that he's comfortable with her seeing the photograph, at least enough that he can leave it just laying on the nightstand, despite it being _her_ nightstand, in _her_ home, next to _her _bed, the one they now share.

He watches her with open, honest eyes, the slight surprise from seeing the photograph in her hand faded now, replaced by a calm, cool façade, but one that cannot fully conceal the vulnerability she glimpsed at the night before.

"I think I need to say something to you," Lisbon finally says, breaking the silence between them.

Jane nods and she makes her way over to the bed, sinking down on the edge of the mattress delicately, feeling for a moment as if she's a stranger in her own bedroom.

Jane seems to sense her discomfort and immediately reaches out to take her hand in his and the soft smile that passes his features, obviously an effort on his part to soothe her nerves makes Lisbon pull his hand in between her palms, fingers running over each knuckle.

"I know I'm not always forthcoming about my own feelings, especially anything that has to do with my past, but I really want you to know that you can talk to me."

"I know that," Jane says softly, peering at her with a penetrating glint, a look he's perfected over the years and one that still leaves Lisbon feeling exposed.

"Do you? Because sometimes I feel like you're hiding from me just like you do with everyone else, and it's disconcerting."

Her honesty seems to touch a nerve, because Jane suddenly sits up straighter, maneuvering his body so he's facing her directly, "you can't ever think that," he says seriously, resisting the urge to put his hands on her shoulders to shake the truth into her.

"I don't always, but yesterday…" her voice trails off and Jane doesn't like the defeated tone or the way she exhales heavily.

He doesn't really have much to say in the way of explanation but it seems that Lisbon isn't expecting one.

"I think the picture is beautiful and I realize the holidays are the hardest time to spend without your loved ones," she continues, emphasizing a point he knows she's far too familiar with,

"but I don't want you to conceal how you feel from me. I never want you to be afraid to tell me stories about your family,"

He stares at her, a bit wide eyed, but her courage doesn't waver. If she weren't so preoccupied with communicating how she feels, Lisbon would definitely find it amusing that for once it seems as if she's struck Patrick Jane into a bewildered silence, blue eyes infused with affection seldom so exposed.

"I'm not here to replace them, Patrick. I hope you know that."

Her words dissolve into silence, but instead of it being thick and tension filled, Lisbon feels at ease for the first time since Jane came out of the shower. She continues to run her fingers soothingly over his hands, admiring their shape and weight in her palms, but Jane doesn't let the quietude last for too long.

He reaches up and tilts her chin to him as he speaks, commanding her with the intensity of his sea colored gaze,

"You're something else, Teresa Lisbon." He announces, the hint of reverence in his voice jolts her slightly, but as much as she wants to conceal it, Jane picks up on it and ushers her closer to him.

"I'm not worth your patience, woman. I'm really not and I'm sorry if I've ever made you feel as if I'm hiding. It's just been too long since someone asked me how I was feeling without being paid to do so, so you will have to forgive me, if I'm a little rough around the edges."

Jane strokes her cheek lovingly, and Lisbon can't help the warmth that spreads through her body, calming her down considerably. Maybe it isn't fair that he can pacify her with just one touch, but the look in his eyes says everything he can't quite yet express in words.

"Don't be so self-deprecating, Patrick." She says amusedly, watching as his facial muscles relax into an almost smile, blue eyes no longer boring intensely into her,

"I just don't want to you be scared of telling me things. The only way to make this work is to be honest and I know that might sound a bit ridiculous coming from me, trust issues and all, but I just had to tell you, because I know how this time of year is."

He'd never peg Lisbon as being shy but in this moment as she casts her eyes away from him, long dark lashes concealing the uncertainty he could easily pinpoint otherwise, Jane can only describe her as uncertain and bashful, which despite how endearing she looks, leaving him feeling culpable for making the confident and self assured Teresa Lisbon doubt herself.

He doesn't even realize what he's doing, until he's kneeling in front of her, hands cupping both her cheeks as he trains his eyes on her, making sure she can't look away again.

"And I want you to know how incredibly grateful I am for your presence in my life. You will never replace my family, because I don't want you to. That's not what I was looking for when I found you. Hell, I wasn't really looking at all,"

His comment earns him a laugh, as Lisbon kisses the palm on her cheek softly, watching him with knowing eyes as he continues, "but you, you challenge me and you don't let me get away with anything, at least you try not to, and I need you to know that you are the only person I ever want to be honest with. Believe that, Teresa."

"I do." She whispers, but there's still a hint of uncertainty in her voice, so Jane does the one thing he can think of at the moment to quell any anxiety she may have. He abruptly stands and reaches over to the nightstand, taking the creased photo of his wife and child, a well worn memento from the past, but before he can say anything, Lisbon stops him,

"You don't have to do this." She warns; hand on his arm as Jane sits down besides her staring at the picture, his thumb unconsciously gliding over his daughter's face.

It dawns on him that as much this keepsake is always close to him, he doesn't remember the last time he really looked at it. So he's unprepared for the stab of pain that punctures his heart, tightening around him like a vice.

Lisbon seems to pick up on his distress and gently pries his hands away from the photograph, setting it aside as she wraps her arms around his shoulders, hands unconsciously tracing over the plains of his back, muscles that seemed to have tensed for far too long.

"I believe you, Patrick." She whispers into his ear, praying for his body to relax against hers, "I don't need you to prove anything to me, that's not my intention."

Her words expose guilt, remorse for having started this conversation and even through his own clouded mind, Jane senses this so he wills himself to look at her, more composed than before,

"I know. I just don't want to you to ever feel like I'm keeping things from you deliberately, its just-…"

Jane pauses, but Lisbon's concerned gaze encourages him to finish, "it's just hard sometimes, that's all."

Lisbon nods immediately, fingers running through his curls as she pulls him closer, until she's almost in his lap, "I know. I'm sorry I brought it up now, we're supposed to be celebrating tonight, not rehash-…"

"It's okay," Jane cuts her off, a hint of his usual, mischievous smile returning as he wraps an arm around her waist, "we can still celebrate," He murmurs, lips falling to the crook of her neck.

It's a light kiss but it seems to serve its purpose, awakening her senses, alerting Lisbon to the fact that Jane sits besides her half naked, breath warm against her skin as his lips trace over her pulse point.

The moan that escapes is inevitable and she doesn't fight it, letting herself indulge in the familiar stirring in the pit of her belly. She runs her hands unconsciously down Jane's back, across familiar skin that's now hot to the touch and she relishes in the way Jane shivers when she runs a finger down his spine.

Jane moves his lips off her neck, along her jaw line, and Lisbon unconsciously leans into the anticipated kiss, but it never comes.

She opens her eyes to find him looking at her, a cerulean gaze that doesn't reveal lust, but something else, something much deeper that Lisbon can't identify.

"Don't be sorry for bringing this up. I never want you to doubt yourself. You may not realize it, but you're a healer, Teresa Lisbon."

Despite the seriousness of his statement, there's a whimsical tone to his voice, a brightness in his admission that makes Lisbon smile and quirk her eyebrow at him,

"Is that so? Do I have mystical powers?" She asks teasingly, leaning in until their lips are only a hairsbreadth apart.

"Well lets be serious here, darling. I'm the only one with the mystical powers." Jane deadpans, and Lisbon can't help the eye roll or the subsequent chuckle. She shakes her head at him, but she's secretly glad that Jane is smiling again.

She was honest with him when she said it was never her intention to make him recall painful memories; however, she's not sorry she voiced her concern. There's something uplifting about being honest for a change, for sharing at least some of what she's feeling instead of pushing it back and Lisbon vows she won't wait too long to tell him everything else.

The brunette is so consumed in her thoughts, she doesn't notice the roguish glint in Jane's eye until he leans over and claims her mouth, tongue tracing her lower lip until she responds, arms wrapping around his neck as he pushes her onto the bed.

He hovers over her for a moment, bracing himself on his elbow as he runs his other hand disappears underneath the dress she plans to wear tonight. His eyes never leave her but Lisbon doesn't squirm under his gaze.

There are many looks that Jane has that are mere pretences, a farce to hide behind, but Lisbon thinks the way he's looking at her now is the most honest one, and the pleasure that courses through her entire being as his hand traces her inner thigh is unmistakable.

She runs her fingers down his chest to settle on the waistband of his slacks, but Jane surprises her by pulling her into a deep kiss and abruptly moving down her body, a wicked grin on his face as she looks confusedly on.

"Patrick," Lisbon rises up on her elbows but he gently pushes her down, fingers tracing the lace beneath her dress as he drops a kiss on her knee and parts her thighs.

"Let me show you what I'm thankful for this year."

He murmurs playfully against her skin and doesn't wait for a response.

Moments later, even through the pleasure induced haze, Lisbon still comes to the solid decision that this Thanksgiving definitely beats last year's, even if she did have Ben & Jerry and Audrey Hepburn for companions.

***


	17. Part XVII: Sweet like Honey

**Running Through Red Lights**

Disclaimer: Don't own anything…Lyrics by my old favorite, Dido, title stolen from Fiona Apple.

Rating: M

Spoiler: Red Badge, Black Gold and Red Blood.

A/N: Hey everyone! Thank you for all the reviews for the previous chapter. Also to all the people that added this story to their alert and favorites lists, you have no idea how happy that makes me. As always, I hope you enjoy this part and drop a review to let me know what you think!

***

Part XVII: Sweet like Honey

"_I can stop and catch my breath  
and look no further, for happiness  
and I will not turn again  
cause my heart has found its home…"_

_***  
_

"_Patrick."_

The name rolls effortlessly off her tongue, an instinctual plea for more, grounding her in an unexpected way but also leaving her weightless as she runs her fingers through golden curls, pushing him closer against her.

At work, at crime scenes, even in the super market, he's always Jane to her.

He's Jane when he teases her to the point of blushing.

He's Jane when he comes up with a crazy plan to catch the killer.

And he's most certainly Jane when there's a complaint on her desk from a disgruntled suspect who has been cleared.

However here in her bedroom, as she feels his warm, soft lips and curious tongue on her skin, he's always just _Patrick_.

Without his work armor, without mischievous looks, and without pretense, he's just the man who knows how to touch, kiss, and tease her into submission and there's simply no room for falsehood here, for propriety.

Only for sensation, seduction, the sliding of skin, and shivers as she grabs the hand drawing soothing patterns into her thigh, if only to brace herself against the pressure building inside, anticipation growing in wait for that elusive feeling, that sweetness only he can give her…

…and with a flick of his tongue, she unravels, involuntary spasms overtaking her as his name spills unconsciously from her lips, two syllables that create a chorus of the most dulcet cadence.

One that seems to consume her, while enthralling the man who kisses the curve of her hip, before sliding up besides her, the heat of his breath on her neck making her shiver, the intensity of his blue stare making her toes curl.

They lie in silence for a moment, secret smiles exchanged without words, as Lisbon reaches out to run her thumb against his lip, unable to resist the urge to trace his jaw line as Jane watches her intently.

She's barely touching him, but it's enough to captivate them both, so that when a foreign sound breaks the quietude, they both have to take a moment to realize where it's coming from.

The recognition presumably reaches Lisbon first, because the brunette shoots up from the bed, eyes wide.

"Shit, you're not even dressed," she exclaims, a flash of black lace disappearing beneath her dress as she runs to her vanity to run a brush through her hair.

Jane watches her amusedly from his relaxed position on the bed, and Lisbon turns around, looking at him quite annoyed, "what are you smiling at? That was the door bell."

"I know," the blond moves off the bed and reaches calmly for his shirt, buttoning it up slowly much to Lisbon's irritation, "you didn't seem too concerned with that just a few minutes ago," he adds cheekily, and Lisbon has the biggest urge to throw her brush at him.

She should be downstairs, opening the door for her guests, but instead she's here watching him get dressed.

Perhaps her body hasn't really caught up with her mind.

Either way, the involuntary blush coating her cheeks isn't abating and Jane's smug facial expression (although oddly arousing) is still very much frustrating.

"Oh bite me," she rolls her eyes, obviously not expecting that a moment later, Jane wraps his arms around her waist, lifting her slightly off the ground as he gently nips at her neck, "be careful what you ask for, woman." He cautions her and then he's gone, light steps down the stairs before Lisbon even has a moment to collect herself.

Murmuring dark things about the blond man playing co-host, Lisbon takes one look in the mirror and makes her way down the stairs, only to be greeted by her team standing in her living room, with a pretty dark haired woman tucked to Cho's side.

"Lisbon," Jane exclaims, "so good of you to join us finally."

"Oh, so good of you to get the door," Lisbon replies through somewhat gritted teeth, annoyance dissipating as Jane shoots her a mischievous but honest smile, a secret look exchanged between them as she approaches.

"Hi everyone," she smiles.

"Your home is lovely, boss."

"Thank you and its Teresa here, Grace." Lisbon says, accepting the homemade apple pie in Van Pelt's hands.

The redhead blushes and nods, a vibrant smile on her face as she slips off her coat and Jane quickly takes it off her hands.

"Oh, here," Cho extends the bottle of wine he and his date brought, which causes Lisbon's gaze to fall on the petite woman standing somewhat uncomfortably by the Asian man's side.

"Thanks," Lisbon nods, ready to introduce herself when Jane says,

"Oh Teresa, this is April, the woman who adds spice to Kimball's life."

The reaction to Jane's comment is almost instantaneous as Rigsby cannot contain the chuckle that escapes his lips and the usual demure Van Pelt covers her mouth immediately, trying to conceal her own laughter.

Lisbon thinks Cho's slightly bewildered look and raised eyebrows are the equivalent of an embarrassed blush for her second in command and decides Jane should be reprimanded for his comment.

"It's so nice to meet you, April," Lisbon extends her hand after shooting a disapproving glance towards Jane, "likewise." April responds, taking her hand.

"Something smells great, bo-Teresa." Rigby announces, an all too familiar look of excitement on his face at the prospect of food.

"Well thank you. I suppose we shouldn't keep the turkey waiting," Lisbon smiles, "Jane, you're in charge of the coats," she adds, without looking at him.

Jane's smile falters just slightly but he accepts the task, taking Rigsby's, April's, and Cho's jackets and heading back up stairs to the guest bedroom, as Lisbon escorts the rest of the team to the table.

He hasn't had a moment to reflect on their earlier conversation and finds himself not wanting to, the dread and guilt that gripped him as he saw the photo of his family still fresh on his mind.

However, when he returns to the staircase and stops for a moment to watch Lisbon smile genuinely at something April says, there's a feeling of hope that flutters inside him, something that's been skirting on the edges of his broken world for a while now.

Reminding him yet again that perhaps this year, he actually has something to be thankful for.

***

It's a seemingly innocent inquiry.

Posed between the clinking of forks and the moving of dishes, the question should be just one in the myriad exchanged between new acquaintances and old colleagues over a holiday meal; yet, the reaction it causes leaves no one with the impression that this is just a harmless query to be forgotten.

Particularly, because of the way Lisbon's cheeks seem to turn into a shade of red similar to the color of the wine currently blocking the air in her windpipe.

Jane reacts instantly by patting her back, unabashed concern, perhaps only slightly tinged with amusement, is even more of an indication that April's question, however simple, may not have such a clear cut answer.

April shoots Cho a panicked look, eyes surveying the rest of the stunned CBI agents as even her date seems to be surprised by her question and the subsequent reaction from their usually composed boss.

"I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to pry, I just thought-…"

The dark haired woman rambles uncomfortably, leaning closer to Lisbon as the recovering brunette shakes her head.

"It's quite alright." Jane interrupts, handing Lisbon a glass of water, which she takes gladly, "I'm sure she'll be fine."

He shoots the Asian woman a heart melting smile, which does the trick in relaxing her, at least enough that she reclines back, allowing Cho to wrap his arm around her shoulder and give it a gentle squeeze.

The usually expressionless agent shakes the slight look of astonishment from his face enough to shoot his girlfriend a soft smile and take a hefty sip of wine himself.

Boy, he didn't see _that_ one coming…

"Are you alright, boss?" Van Pelt eventually speaks, her voice incredibly gentle, almost fearful, as she shoots Rigsby a nervous side glance when his hand makes it underneath the table to her knee, suddenly aware of their proximity.

"Yeah, I can usually get through a dinner without choking to death. Now, what did I say about calling me boss?"

Lisbon reprimands blithely, trying to make light of the situation as she gives April a warm smile and shakes her head at the other woman's umpteenth apology.

The senior agent indeed appears fine, very relieved, but she doesn't dare look at the man sitting to her right, the one whose touch on her arm seems to be burning her skin as she tries to focus her attention on anything but him.

Eventually the tension dissipates on its own when Rigsby loudly announces that he's ready for more turkey, picking up the drumstick on his plate with the fervor of a five year old. Unable to resist the adorable look of satisfaction on the tall agent's face as he chews, the women dissolve into giggles while Jane and Cho exchange amused looks across the table.

However, even as the light conversation resumes and the atmosphere fills up with more wine and laughter, two observations don't escape any of the six people: one being that Jane's hand doesn't move from Lisbon's arm for the rest of the dinner and the other that April's apparently innocent question goes unanswered.

"_So Teresa, how long have you and Patrick been together?"_

***

The night is cool but not overly so. There's a light breeze that leaves goose bumps on her skin but Lisbon doesn't mind.

All this reminds her that winter is soon approaching and despite the years she's lived in California, she sometimes misses the change of season from home, misses the way during Halloween it was impossible to walk through the neighborhood without leaves crunching beneath your feet and the way her father used to shovel away piles of snow on Christmas Eve so the family could go to church, always at the insistence of her mother.

Her hand instinctively travels to the cross that never leaves her neck.

Fingering the pendant, Lisbon tries not to think cynically about her mother's faith. After all, it shaped her to be the strong and brilliant woman Lisbon knew for so long, and perhaps she can't blame her mother's untimely passing on anyone other than the man who had too much to drink.

Still after all these years, a part of her can't justify a belief in God, not only because of her mother, but also because of her job, the things she sees, the very disturbed part of human nature, where God seems to play no role, neither as a protector nor as a harbinger doesn't afford one a strong allegiance to faith.

Shutting her eyes against the cold wind, Lisbon tries not to think about her mother, but finds herself more terrified of reflecting on this evening.

Her guests are still inside but she doubts that even in a group so small, they would notice her absence, since Jane has decided to entertain Cho's girlfriend with tricks that April hasn't seen before.

Perhaps the only reason Van Pelt and Cho stuck around to watch was Jane's decision to use Rigsby as his assistant.

The thought of Jane putting Rigsby in awkward situations brings a smile to her face, especially since she knows how hard the arson specialist tries to impress the other woman on her team.

Lisbon may not be as perceptive as Jane, but she can tell there's something going on between them.

If before this evening, she was in a position to mention something to either of them, after her chocking incident and Jane's insistence on shadowing her every move thereafter, it's pretty safe to say the only people who've been ousted are she and Jane.

She's not really sure how to react to that.

Of course, the question caught her off guard, which precipitated the embarrassing event that followed; however, now that she's had time to think about it, she wonders what she would have answered if she'd been able to keep her surprise under control.

Much like the Bosco incident, she was in no way prepared for being asked this, and frankly is a bit surprised her colleagues haven't figured it out yet.

Yet, where with Sam she was petrified when he found out, because it meant he had another reason to question her competency, with Cho, Rigsby, and Van Pelt, Lisbon doesn't feel the same weight pressing on her shoulders.

There's no alarm or panic inside her and she's inclined to believe that means she trust her team, subconsciously considers them a family, even though she's never been to their homes, doesn't really know what they do outside the CBI walls, well except for Van Pelt, who Lisbon knows has taken up yoga after much encouragement on her part.

The redhead is a very devoted, hard working individual. She reminds Lisbon of herself at that age, perhaps less uncertainty but the same eager attitude and it saddens the senior agent that she's driven such a deep wall between herself and the rookie that Van Pelt couldn't stop calling her 'boss' all throughout dinner.

Perhaps it wouldn't be so bad if the rest of the team knew about her and Jane, if anything it would probably humanize her to Van Pelt in particular; though the younger woman may consider Lisbon a bit crazy, since she's been privy to Jane's antics for quite sometime now.

A particularly chilly breeze interrupts her thoughts, but instead of deciding to go back inside, Lisbon simply wraps her hands around her favorite green mug and takes a heavy sip from it, the cinnamon spiced coffee warming her from the inside.

She savors her favorite Christmas blend brew, not realizing she has company until a throw is placed over her and a soft voice tickles her ear,

"Need some company?"

Despite the shiver that runs through her as she meets Jane's eye over her shoulder, to retain some semblance of mind, she gives him a teasing reply,

"Would you go away if I said I didn't?"

The blond looks put off for just a moment, before sitting himself down right besides her,

"Meh, probably not," he decides, nudging her just slightly, "besides I don't think you can say no to my friend here." Jane adds, producing a small bottle of Jack Daniels Lisbon had no idea she still had.

It's interesting how long alcohol can remain untouched but still serve its purpose. She quickly realizes that it's the same bottle they shared on her porch so many nights ago.

"May I?" Jane unscrews the top and gestures to Lisbon's mug.

"By all means," she replies, watching as the amber liquid disappears into the black in her cup.

It's a dangerous combination but she takes a hefty gulp, the bitterness from the whiskey just the right adjunct to the spiciness of the coffee.

Then Lisbon watches in surprise as Jane takes his own cup and pours a generous amount from the bottle, setting it aside.

"Are you drinking coffee?" The brunette asks with exaggerated disbelief.

Jane gives her a side glance before bringing the mug to his lips, "it's only tolerable with a bit of help from Mr. Daniels, otherwise it tastes like mud."

Lisbon rolls her eyes, perfectly aware of Jane's distaste for caffeine without him clarifying so, but an unintended smile falls on her lips as she watches him take a satisfied sip, not even grimacing at the bitter taste like he did before.

"That night seems so long ago." She says softly, watching as recognition crosses Jane's face, the muscles around his eyes softening as he returns her smile.

"Yeah, I remember thinking how dangerous you were."

"Dangerous?" Lisbon asks in surprise, but when Jane fixes her with a pointed stare, her bemused expression disappears, "is that why you left so abruptly that night?"

Jane nods, wrapping his arm around her waist to bring her closer, his eyes never leaving hers as he tucks a strand of hair behind her ear,

"Yeah, I knew that if I stayed any longer, my self control would snap and I would-…"

"You would what," Lisbon interrupts breathlessly, mind completely blank, focused only on Jane's intense sea colored gaze and the fact that his lips are now so close to hers, she can taste them.

Jane doesn't say anything, instead moves the hand around her waist to her neck burying it wrist deep in her hair before pulling Lisbon in for a kiss.

It's brief but deep, leaving her body humming, a distinct reminder of the activities her team interrupted prior to dinner.

Jane doesn't let her go too far after parting, resting his forehead against hers as Lisbon savors the taste of whiskey and cinnamon on her tongue, "I can't say I'm not upset that you left if this is what would have happened," she murmurs, "but I'm glad you came back."

"Me too," Jane says softly, his sonorous voice sends spindles of pleasure down her spine as he looks at her with beaming eyes, fingers tracing the chain on her neck.

Lisbon leans into his touch unconsciously, enjoying the companionable silence between them as she takes a sip of the laced coffee.

Jane lets the quiet overcome them for a moment, until he hears the voices from inside get closer and decides to make his move, "so if you hadn't been sipping on wine when the lovely April asked you about us, what would you have said?"

Lisbon looks up, rising abruptly from her position on his shoulder, green eyes looking uncertain for a moment before relaxing, "in hindsight, I probably would have told the truth," she admits and it doesn't seem as scary even when she says it out loud.

Jane's expression is blank but his eyes convey contemplation, so Lisbon can't help but be curious, "what would you have said?"

"I've never been ashamed of you, of us."

It's not quite the answer she's looking for but it fills her with a sense of calm she wasn't expecting.

"I know," Lisbon asserts, even though there is now a tiny part of her that feels more at ease than before.

"I'm the closest to happiness then I've been in years and I would shout it to the world if I could."

The admission is sweet, infinitely so, but the deep look of regret in his eye doesn't go unnoticed.

With some men, it's all about figurative proclamations of love, exuberant lines meant to swoon but those that rarely ever hold meaning.

With Jane, the phrase is quite literal.

They both know there's a bigger reason to keep their relationship a secret beyond the CBI walls, away from the man responsible for taking happiness away from Jane so long ago.

Nevertheless, Lisbon doesn't dwell on that fact, choosing to accept that as part of the reality, before just Jane's, but now hers as well.

She's always been defiant, an inherent trait in her personality, solidified especially after taking over the maternal role in her family and she refuses to let Red John win.

Won't let him force her and Jane apart, won't be afraid to reveal herself as someone important in Jane's life just because Red John might be watching.

However, it is possible that Jane might not be as ready; after all he feels a personal responsibility for what happened to his wife and child.

It's apparent by his expression that he's terrified of the same thing happening to her, and although Lisbon wants to shake him awake, let him know he's not the same person as before, she knows he won't listen.

There are things that no amount of coaxing will change and so instead of pushing him, Lisbon scoots impossibly closer, hand reaching out to caress the smooth but strong line of his jaw as she looks on knowingly,

"I know you would, but maybe we can start small, just a few friends." She suggests and finds Jane agreeing as he tightens his hold on her, "exactly what I was thinking."

"Glad we're on the same page," Lisbon responds, before pressing her lips softly against his, missing the mischievous look in Jane's eye right before.

The front door flies open causing Lisbon to push Jane away instinctively, only to find her team and April halted in the threshold, looking at her and Jane expectantly.

Lisbon opens her mouth to speak, but Van Pelt beats her to it,

"So we'll see each other on Monday then?" the redhead looks at her without a hint of discomfort, which although surprises Lisbon, also lifts a weight off her shoulders.

"Yeah. Thankfully we're not on call this weekend." Lisbon concurs, giving the redhead a warm smile.

"Thank god. Poor Maskowitz though. His team drew the short stick this year; the crazies tend to come out during the holiday season." Rigsby chimes in, earning a few chuckles from the rest of the people on the porch.

"Well, we've got to be going, thank you for dinner, it was lovely." Cho announces, helping April into her coat.

"Your welcome and it was a pleasure to meet you, April. I'll be sure to stop by sometime. Check out your suit collection."

When it was revealed over dessert that April was a buyer for a small men's boutique in downtown Sacramento, an unlikely friendship was struck between her and Jane, which ultimately leads to Cho sending a worried look Lisbon's way at Jane's current statement.

"You should," April nods eagerly, giving the consultant an awkward hug before turning her attention towards Lisbon, "once again Teresa, sorry for causing that incident earlier,"

"Don't worry about it," Lisbon waves it off, embracing the shorter woman, "it was nothing."

Sometime between saying goodbye and watching as the two pairs drive off in their respective vehicles, Jane's arm slips around Lisbon's waist, but she doesn't push him away, instead leans against him, strangely not at all bothered by how calmly her team took the revelation.

She doesn't even want to think that any of them were in on the betting pool with the guys from Organized Crimes. That would be seriously upsetting, though she is curious to see how much they bet on her and Jane.

Of course, there's something else that dawns on her when she thinks about _how_ her team found out…

"Ow, what was that for?" Jane actually jumps away from her after she elbows him not too lightly.

"You totally set me up!" Lisbon explains, more amused than furious, but he doesn't have to know that.

The sly smile that spreads over his face is all the indication Lisbon needs that she is right, but instead of assaulting him once more (even though she has every right to), the petite agent pins the consultant against the opposite pillar on her porch, roguish glint in her eye as her fingers circle around the top button on his shirt,

"I could shoot you right now."

"You could." Jane concurs, though the immediate physical threat doesn't deter him from settling his hand on her hip, her body flush against his.

"But I won't." She decides, finger flicking the first button open as she looks at him beneath hooded lashes, pink tongue darting out to trace over her lower lip, "on one condition."

"Which is?" his voice trails off, trying to suppress a groan as Lisbon pops another button, finger tracing the exposed skin.

"You make it up to me."

A whisper in his ear and then she's gone, hips sashaying to the door.

Jane takes a deep breath, a vie for self control, but when he sees Lisbon leaning against the doorframe waiting with a darkened green gaze reserved solely for him, he realizes he never stood a chance.

And when he kisses her, Jane thinks a loser's reward never tasted so sweet.

***


	18. Part XVIII: Harbinger

**Running Through Red Lights**

Disclaimer: Don't own anything…Lyrics by Christine Fellows. (thank you **Unbreakbroken**!)

Rating: M

Spoiler: Red Badge, Black Gold and Red Blood.

A/N: Hey everyone! Thank you once again for all your wonderful reviews. I've never had a story that had over 300 reviews, so I am eternally grateful for everyone's eager responses to this story. If you can believe it or not, we've finally reached the point in the story that I had in mind all along and I really hope you enjoy it! Unfortunately, school has started and sapped me of all my free time to write, so I don't know when the next update will be, but I hope this ties you guys over. Thank you!

***

Part XVIII: Harbinger

"_Always aware of the spaces between us.  
Lie still and listen to the hiss and the crackle…"_

***

Teresa Lisbon surprises him everyday.

She surprises him with her patience, her diligence, and her fierce loyalty.

She also surprises him with her demeanor towards him.

The way she's always been accepting, almost from the very first day they began working together.

Despite how many times he's managed to put a frown on her face and make her sigh heavily in exasperation, she's never been anything more than supportive. At times her annoyance shines through and that natural fire that he loves about her seems to overpower her desire to assist him in one of his latest schemes, but through all of that, she's the constant in his life.

Now more than ever…

And Jane is not only eternally grateful, but still very much surprised that instead of pushing him away like any sane individual would do, the most level headed woman he knows, has done the complete opposite, letting him into her life in the most intimate of ways.

His bedmate shifts in her sleep, blankets accidentally pulled lower to reveal more of herself, as Jane lies on his side watching her.

She's facing away from him, still curled up in the position she'd been when he was spooning her, hair fanned across the pillow as she breathes steadily, chest rising with every inhale.

He's been sleeping far better with her by his side then he has in the last five years but tonight, tonight his mind is in disarray and sleeps seems like a cruelly unattainable state, despite the exhaustion seeping in.

Unconsciously, Jane reaches out, tracing the thin strap of the camisole Lisbon is wearing; feeling the soft material against his skin brings an involuntary smile to his face.

He never thought Lisbon was the silk and satin type, but after months of being with her, she's managed to disprove his every preconceived notion about her, including what she prefers to wear when not at work.

The emerald satin beneath his fingertips is testament to the fact that she's still a woman behind her badge, one with an incredibly alluring taste in sleepwear.

It makes him a bit nervous that she's such a mystery to him, but it also excites him.

In a way he's spent most of his time tonight hoping that she'll surprise him one more time when he confides in her.

He knows she won't be happy about this.

There's no way she can be, but perhaps she'll be somehow placated by the fact that he's come to her, has not broken the promise he made to her the first time they made love.

Jane remembers vividly lying besides her, in the silence her thoughts seemed to scream at him until finally he couldn't bear it any longer and turned her over in his arms.

She'd given him her signature confused Lisbon pout but he didn't even pause to challenge the worry it was concealing. Instead he promised her in so many words that he would try as hard as he could to include her in his plans more, let her in just a little bit.

Not shut her out like he had when he landed himself in prison.

If not for anything else, he owes her honesty and respect for that.

There's certainly no love lost between Jane and Bosco, but the consultant knows how important that relationship is to Lisbon, even now when it seems like the older detective cannot let go of _his_ preconceived notions of the brunette and see her for the incredible agent she has become.

Despite their strained interactions, Jane knows Lisbon still cares deeply for the older detective, looks up to him even, and for her to risk that for him, for his arrogance and single mindedness, for a plan she doesn't even approve of, speaks volumes of her character.

It almost makes him want to rethink the purpose he's been living for since Red John struck.

_Almost. _

And there in lies his dilemma.

No matter how much he knows revenge leads nowhere, Jane cannot let go.

Cannot even consider it and yet finds himself feeling less bitter and remorseful every day he doesn't spend in solitude, but with Lisbon.

Secretly, he curses what he's learned.

With the initial excitement over this new information barely a memory now, Jane realizes exactly what this could mean for his relationship with the brunette.

Despite knowing how selfish it will be of him to ask Lisbon this, he hopes she doesn't turn away, hopes that somewhere inside herself, she can find the strength to support him, because if there's one thing Jane has been certain of from their very first kiss is that he can no longer do it alone.

She's become a lifeline in the unlikeliest of ways, guiding him unknowingly, but with a light so bright and inspiring that he finds himself being led unconsciously.

In the last few months, never mind the years he's known her, she's been a permanent beacon, a shield on which he can rely, an endless supply of calm and comfort whenever he needs it.

He never realized how lucky he was, didn't even realize he had feelings for her, always too focused, his vision too narrow and determined to be distracted by pesky things such as love.

No, not for him, not after everything he's done.

But fate doesn't care what one deserves and he can't help but think once again about how really undeserving he is of all the care and devotion Lisbon has inside her, he's not even worthy of her respect.

Yet she gives it to him wholeheartedly, without question, rarely ever asking for anything back, and Jane knows how fragile all this is.

How despite her courage and devotion and constant presence in his life, she can easily slip away, vanish just like his wife and child did, because of one arrogant mistake, a few ill chosen words.

It's disconcerting, so very troubling how similar all this is, except this time he _knows_ he can lose the most important person in his life and yet it doesn't make this decision any easier.

He's teetering on the brink of a potential disaster, between the past and the present, his future hanging in the balance…

He knows he can't survive another loss like this.

His mind, regardless of how malleable, cannot sustain another blow like the one he had, but he knows that his existence will always be plagued by nightmares and apparitions until he's able to catch Red John.

Not just "catch" him, but make sure he doesn't breathe again…

Lisbon might not understand that and he's impossibly grateful that her soul is as resilient as it is.

She's suffered loss.

She's seen it so often in her job, it has undoubtedly left an indelible impression on her; however, he sees a vitality in her eyes that goes beyond a simple adherence to the rules.

She doesn't want him to kill Red John not only because she's an officer of the law, but also because she cannot understand a darkness like his.

She's not naïve by any means.

How can someone be when they've lost both parents before they are legally considered an adult?

However Lisbon, unlike him, understands and believes in the obscure concept of justice, not only professionally but also personally, and its that comprehension and compassion that makes her a good cop and an even better person.

Lisbon moves in her sleep again, tearing him away from his thoughts.

This time she settles facing him, and he has the greatest urge to reach over and swipe the bangs from her face, run his fingers through the waves lying in disarray around her.

She looks so peaceful, not quite smiling but definitely not frowning.

Jane imagines that she's safe somewhere inside her mind, sleeping off the last case they had, one that took them all the way to the outskirts of Lake Tahoe and kept them in the snowy abyss for nearly six days.

Lying besides her now, Jane can't believe he's kept this from her for over a week. The case was time consuming but they saw each other quite often, ate meals together, snuck into each others' rooms even though the team already knows.

He spent plenty of time with her, but it's only now in the dead of night with nothing to occupy his thoughts that he truly feels the weight on his shoulders.

There's no way he can put this off any longer.

All of the sudden, he feels parched, his mouth like sandpaper as the realization sinks in and what was once a source of calm and comfort-this bed-a safe haven, is now suffocating.

He needs to think.

Needs to clear his mind, assemble the right words, and find some way to explain this that doesn't end with Lisbon shying away from him and possibly never trusting him again.

And he can't do it here where her breath tickles his shoulder, her warmth reminding him that revenge does not have to determine his future.

He's not ready for that step yet.

He may never be.

So with a dexterity he didn't know he was capable of, Jane maneuvers himself carefully off the bed, making sure the brunette is undisturbed as he does.

The room is cold, but he doesn't pay attention, not even bothering to put anything on, simply set on walking away from her, away from the bedroom and the woman who even in her unconsciousness reminds him that there's something more important to live for than revenge.

***

She wakes up for some unknown reason.

Seeing the empty space besides her, Lisbon assumes she awoke because of the sudden absence of her bedmate; however, after running her hand across the soft sheets, she realizes the place has grown cold so she must have been sleeping alone for a while.

It wouldn't be first time she woke up to an empty bed, but lately it's been happening less and less, so without thinking, the brunette gets up, intent on finding Jane, wherever he may be.

The house seems cold and it's probably because she forgot to turn the thermostat on when they came back, a product of exhaustion or maybe just plain forgetfulness. Ever since the consultant has stopped slipping away for the night, her bed's been warm enough without the heater.

Shivering nonetheless, Lisbon slips on her housecoat, and pads downstairs, an odd mix of relief and tension filling her as Jane comes into view.

It's a relief that he's there, still in her home, but the strain in his shoulders and the way he's fixated so intently on the full glass of water in his hands suggests that something is wrong with him.

Cohabitating with an insomniac does not permit a normal sleeping cycle, so she's found herself awake in all hours of the night before, regardless of how vigilant Jane is about keeping her up when he's unable to sleep.

Usually, when she would wake up to find him in her kitchen, he would always be one step ahead of her, as if anticipating her trek downstairs.

Depending on the hour of the night, he would have some tea boiled or an old movie playing on the television, always greeting her before she had the chance to sneak up on him.

Yet, tonight he sits alone in her dimly lit kitchen, seemingly so lost in his thoughts, he doesn't even turn to acknowledge her as she steps into the living room.

Nevertheless, Lisbon refuses to jump to conclusions and walks nonchalantly into the kitchen,

"Couldn't sleep?" She asks calmly, walking past him to the stove, intent on making the tea Jane neglected.

"No," Jane shakes his head slightly, looking up to find Lisbon's back to him as she pours water into the kettle.

He suddenly remembers this little tradition of theirs and by the way she stands so straight, he realizes easily that she's miffed that he forgot.

"Did I wake you? I'm sorry." He says softly, hoping to remedy the situation, relieve some of the unspoken tension circulating between them.

But when Lisbon turns around, leaning against the counter instead of approaching him, the blond realizes that an apology will not prevent the inevitable.

"No, I just woke up. You must be sitting here at least an hour." She replies in an even tone, only a hint of accusation in it.

Despite her steely green gaze, Jane senses the exhaustion she feels and that the words, "what's going on?" or some variation of that phrase are on the tip of her tongue.

The silence is deafening between them, but the crackle of the tea kettle on the burner gives Jane another way in and he takes it,

"Uh, tea. I completely forgot."

His weak attempt at small talk is overshadowed by the way he can't stop himself from looking anywhere but Lisbon's face, a rare experience for them both, since no matter the situation, Jane always keeps his eyes on her.

At times it makes her blush, at others it simply annoys her, but it always, always leaves her with a warmth she can't explain. Now she misses it, yearns for it, trying to drive away the tightening in the pit of her stomach as it dawns on her that whatever is plaguing Jane is far more serious than she previously thought.

The little immature irritation she felt with him for ignoring their ritual when she first walked in dissipates as she spots the agonizing look in his eye. The one he's trying to conceal by not meeting her gaze, a sure sign something is wrong.

The whistle of the kettle interrupts her thoughts, but tea seems like the last thing on her mind, as she turns it off and pulls up a chair, sitting so close to Jane, their knees brush, startling the blond as he tears his eyes away from the glass in his hand.

He looks at her for a moment and she's not sure what to make of it; nevertheless, her hand reaches out to his bare shoulder, a light touch but intimate in nature, one that's supposed to communicate a level of comfort that transcends words, a familiarity nothing can touch.

Jane remains stoic but there's a hint of a smile on his face, at least it seems so. It may also be wishful thinking considering how tense he is.

"You know I don't care about the tea, Patrick." Her voice is soft, soothing, and her touch feels so good against his skin, Jane feels simultaneous comfort and shame.

Comfort, because that's what she's come to represent to him and shame, because he's certain he isn't worthy of it, especially not after what he's going to tell her.

With his admission, it'll become completely certain that he's truly unable to give her what she rightfully deserves and that's something he cares about deeply.

"I care." He murmurs, not tearing his eyes away from her.

"Don't," Lisbon whispers back, they're so close and it's so quiet around them, it feels almost wrong not to speak in hushed tones, "it doesn't matter to me, just tell me what's going on."

He doesn't expect her to be so direct and even though her voice is barely a whisper, it stabs at him, gnawing at a scab that's been opened by this recent discovery, something that looking at the woman besides is starting to feel more like a burden than a blessing.

But then, just when he feels like the consequences of his next action might be too great of a sacrifice, his mind backpedals, back to the thoughts, the images, the events that have haunted him for so long, reminding him that even if he wanted to, it's not as simple as pulling Lisbon into his arms and forgetting the world.

He cannot afford this luxury until he's settled his debt, paid his penance, and without even contemplating the implication of his words, he pushes the glass away and speaks,

"A few days before the Tahoe case, Rosalind Harker contacted me, said she might have some information on Red John."

He's not sure what to expect, but the loss of her hand on his shoulder as she leans back in her chair and exhales feels colder than he anticipated, leaving him more bereft and uncertain than he's ever been before.

There's a myriad of emotions swirling in her, but all she can focus on is the thought that even in her line of work and personal life, a single phrase has never instilled such a deep feeling of foreboding, a mix of fear and apprehension as she tries to make sense of what this means.

The man in front of her holds the answers, but she doesn't even know if she wants them.

A simple calculation alerts her to the fact that he's known for a little over a week.

And even though it's obvious he's kept the information to himself, because there was a single mother looking for answers to her child's murder, the fact that he didn't confide in her earlier still hurts, still wounds her just a little.

"What kind of information?" she manages to choke out.

"Apparently, she remembered that in the very beginning of their courtship, a local teenager who used to deliver her groceries asked her about the man who had begun visiting her. She said that one of the last times he came by was when Red John had just left her home and he'd asked her about the man he'd just seen walk out, which means he might remember what Red John looks like."

There are so many questions she wants to ask, so many things plaguing her mind, mostly what this could mean for them, for their relationships outside of work.

However, perhaps because work has always been a defense mechanism of sorts, something to hide behind, her mind seems to compartmentalize her feelings, put them on the back burner in favor of analysis.

After all, she's seen what a messed up lead has done to Jane before, and even just as his colleague, she can't bear to see that disappointment again.

"How do you know Red John didn't just kill the kid when he saw him? His only leverage against us has always been his identity."

Her words pull him back to just a few hours earlier, when he lay besides her thinking how she surprises him every day, because her current reaction is nothing short of what he expected.

Lisbon may not always be an open book to him, but he knows this is the only way she can deal with something of this magnitude, and he can't blame her. More than anything, he's just a little afraid of how much he can divulge until she reaches her breaking point.

"I considered that as well, but Rosalind said she'd remembered the teenager when she ran into his mother at the grocery store. Apparently he moved away, but is still very much alive. His mother wouldn't tell her more."

"And you found him?"

"Yes, yes I did."

"I see."

He watches as she seems to revert into herself, sinking further into the chair, averting her eyes from him, hands nervously fumbling with the tie of her robe.

Jane isn't used to seeing her like this and there's a foreign ache in his chest when he realizes that he had something to do with this.

His rational side refuses to feel guilty for accepting Rosalind's lead but his heart is too distracted by the vision of Lisbon looking so lost and vulnerable to care about any possible ways he can catch Red John.

He feels like he's being split in two, still unable to reconcile these two sides of himself.

However, the anxiety seems to grow with every second that Lisbon keeps her glance away from him, refusing to leave him,

"Teresa, I-…"

"I don't need an explanation Jane, just do what you have to do."

Her head snaps up as she interrupts him, brave green eyes trying to hide the hurt and disappointment swimming beneath.

The way she tries to conceal how she truly feels is almost too much to bear, so he's almost glad when she pushes back her chair and stands to walk away, mumbling something about going back to bed.

But as soon as she moves into the shadows of the living room, his mind seems to catch up with what's happening and he almost sprints after her, grabbing her wrist not too gently to twirl her around.

"What do you want?"

The question comes out much colder than she intended, almost like a territorial hiss, but she can't be this close to him without her emotions getting the best of her and perhaps it will be easier if she disguises her pain with anger.

"I want you to come with me." Jane says, still holding onto her, afraid she'll slip away again.

There's a brief moment of silence as Lisbon takes in his appearance.

His body radiates warmth and his blue eyes search for understanding, but she's still cold and for once wants to be selfish, not be understanding, just because it's expected of her.

"Don't ask me that, Jane."

She swears he flinches when she uses his surname. Within these walls, he's always Patrick to her, and the enormity of this seems to fully sink in when she drives this verbal wedge between them.

"Don't put me in this position,"

This time, she doesn't hide behind anger, she feels it. It courses through her veins, fueling these icy words as they spill from her lips.

_How dare he?_

How dare he make her choose between her obligation to her job and her devotion to him?

This is Bosco's investigation, not his and she doesn't want to be part of this, doesn't want to drive a deeper rift between her and her former colleague while violating professional boundaries.

She knows this can't be easy for Jane, sees the indecision and guilt swimming in his bottomless blues, but there's still an inkling of self preservation that simmers inside her, and she clings to it like a lifeline.

Jane can almost visualize the wall she builds between them, brick by brick, and feels himself powerless to stop it,

"This is what you wanted, Teresa. You asked me to include you in my plans."

He knows it's a foolish statement, witnesses the damage it does as her green eyes flash with fire, indignation at his audacity to throw that in her face.

Of course, he's grasping at straws, anything to keep her from walking away, because he needs her.

God, does he _need_ her…

He needs her support, needs her to be the pillar that's been unknowingly holding him up for so long.

"You think this is what I wanted?"

Each word is perfectly enunciated, tone drenched in sarcasm with a twinge of disbelief.

The consultant, always full of wit and equipped with a sharp tongue, stands mutely before her, more exposed than he's ever been and unable to predict what she will do.

As clairvoyant as he may be, in this moment Jane is blind…blind as a newborn and equally as vulnerable.

It's almost pathetic how one moment he's in control and the next, he's relinquished all of it to her, but even then, Lisbon feels like he's somehow putting her on the spot, asking her to make the decision for him.

And she's not sure she's strong enough to make the right one, which leaves her feeling bitter and resentful, two emotions she would never associate with the man standing before her.

"God, I can't even look at you right now."

Suddenly, the air in her cold living room seems stifling and Jane's touch on her wrist feels like it's scalding her skin.

The instinctual thought to flee consumes her, eyes falling on the large winter jacket she shed as soon as they arrived home.

She grabs it off the arm chair, slipping it on while trying to ignore the look boring into her back as she walks towards the front door.

"Teresa, where are you-…"

Lisbon cuts him off, refusing to turn around, knowing the look on his face, whatever it may be, will be enough to make her change her mind and she can't afford that.

She needs to regain some footing, find some balance in her world, which Jane has thrown out of kilter with just a few words.

Her hand wraps around the door knob and she almost hesitates, but even the tone of his broken words, the slight panic as he speaks, can't stop her, "You said what you needed to say, Jane, now let me do what I need to do."

And then she's gone, the metallic sound of her car keys echoing through the room as the door closes behind her, leaving Jane stranded in the darkness alone, for the first time aware of just how cold it is in Lisbon's home, especially without her there...

***


	19. Part XIX: The One Less Traveled

Running Through Red Lights

Disclaimer: Don't own anything…Lyrics by John Mayer, title borrowed (grin) from Robert Frost's "The Road Not Taken".

Rating: M

Spoiler: Red Badge, Black Gold and Red Blood.

A/N: Hey everyone! Thank you, thank you, thank you and a thousand times more thank you! I am seriously blissed out right now. You guys are the best, best, best group of readers out there and your feedback is invaluable to me and this story. So thank you and I hope you enjoy this chapter!

***

Part XIX: The One Less Traveled

"_I don't care if we don't sleep at all tonight  
Let's just fix this whole thing now  
I swear to God we're gonna get it right  
If you lay your weapon down…"_

***

There is only one place that Lisbon considers her refuge, one place where she doesn't question herself, doesn't think about her short comings, her unfavorable personality traits, or her lack of a social life.

Only one place where everything she's worked for, all that effort and diligence are on display, reminding her that while she may not have a huge family to celebrate the holidays with, and can probably count the number of her closest friends on one hand, she still has something others don't.

The CBI.

It's not just a workplace, not just an office with a desk, revolving chair, and sparse other furnishings.

Her team is not just made up of subordinates, her superiors and associates aren't just colleagues to be respected and admired at a distance, because despite her strong views on keeping one's home life out of the bureau, she realized a long time ago that the CBI _is _her home.

Everyone she works with is her family and she's grown to be fiercely protective of them.

Perhaps it comes with the territory of spending most of her life being the caretaker of three younger siblings, but sometimes she thinks it's more than just her intuitive complex to shield others. Sometimes, she thinks it's instinctual because she's come to love each member of the CBI she works with for various reasons and together they've become her little dysfunctional family unit.

Even in the wee hours of the morning, way before anyone will even contemplate coming in to work unless they are obligated to, Lisbon sits in her pajamas, a robe, and winter jacket behind her desk, not even bothering to shrug the heavy parka off, devoid of all energy, exhausted from not having enough sleep this past week.

It's Saturday morning, which means aside from weekend security, who all know her by name, the headquarters are dead, dead and empty.

The only sound is the movement of the water in her half empty plastic bottle as she rolls it back and forth on her empty desk. The immaculate condition of her workspace is a rare occurrence, but one she manage to accomplish by completing all the paperwork on the three hour drive home yesterday.

She's lucky she's alone. Lucky that there's no one meandering, no pending cases that need the attention of another unit, particularly organized crimes. If Bosco were here right now, even in a middle of an investigation, despite how upset he must be with her for their last conversation, he would still ask her what's wrong and regardless of their recent falling out, Lisbon knows if he did, she would tell him everything.

Hell, if anyone asked her what's wrong, she would tell them. She can't be bothered to be strong right now, she's too weak to care, too many conflicting emotions engulfing her as she struggles to stay afloat.

So, perhaps it's a good thing she's alone with her thoughts, because if Bosco knew even a fraction what has just transpired between her and Jane, she knows the damage to her and Jane's relationship in any capacity, would be irreparable. The blond would consider this an ultimate betrayal, not just because Red John is technically Bosco's responsibility now, but also because it's _Bosco_, the implications of which are too vast and complicated for Lisbon to think about at the moment.

Instead, as the water oscillates between one end of the bottle and the other, her thoughts invariably lead to Jane. As soon as she stormed out of her house, the feeling of anger dissipated completely, but the sense of uncertainty, the sense that she's lost her footing has only intensified. Now even as she sits in the one place that has always made her feel stable, always helped her regain her balance, whether from a personal disappointment or a professional hazard, the feeling of solidity eludes her.

She knows what she should do. Especially now that she's found herself in her office, the cross roads she's at has become clearer in her mind.

As an officer of the law, as the protector and believer of everything she stands for, she should go to Bosco right now and tell him everything she knows. Despite the ramifications that would have for her and Jane, it would be the right thing to do…

But, if things were that simple, then she wouldn't be here at five in the morning, trying to understand how she got to this point, because in truth, not even her logical mind, her sound judgment is making her lean toward the "right" option.

Instead, her mind, her heart, and her instincts all tell her that she needs to go home, tell Jane she'll go with him, and try her best to buffer any damage this meeting may cause. That's precisely what leaves her feeling so uneven, so helpless against these two roads she has to choose between, those that will never, ever converge.

It's frustrating that even in the place that should represent all the reasons why she shouldn't partake in Jane's side plans of revenge, she finds herself actually leaning in that direction.

If it's not testament to how deeply she feels for the man who has become simultaneously the bane and joy of her existence, then she's not sure what is.

And yet it's more than that.

In spite of the blinding anger and frustration Lisbon felt initially, she could still see in the darkness of her living room how upsetting the whole ordeal was to Jane; how painful it was for him to tell her everything. Though she wants to be selfish, wants to be offended and livid, any ill feelings she may have been harboring for the blond, seemed to evaporate on the drive over.

She pinches the bridge of her nose in exasperation, feeling the first signs of an impending headache, but it doesn't stop her thoughts, doesn't stop the swirling emotions that take a hold of her insides and threaten to squeeze any rationality out of her.

She's completely and utterly conflicted. There has never been a time before where she's had to face such a daunting task. Of course, a long time ago, perhaps too far back into her past to compare, she'd made a spontaneous decision to support her mentor in something that could jeopardize both their careers; however, the brunette isn't certain she can do the same now.

Or can she?

She's definitely not the same person she was under Bosco's tutelage. She's more competent, less insecure, more aware of herself and what she's capable of, and despite the fact that others think she's being slowly manipulated by Jane to do things his way, Lisbon knows deep inside that she still has her principles, still has her beliefs, and morals. Just because she might every once in a while bend to the consultant's suggestions, does not mean she can compromise her stance on Red John if she ever has to.

At the same time, she feels if she consents to accompanying Jane, it could be just the beginning of the end and that's something that terrifies Lisbon to her very core.

It hurts like hell to realize that there's no such thing as a happy medium in this situation. She can either listen to her heart and go with Jane, fulfill the promise she made to herself to support him as much as she can; or she can do what's logical, what's fair, what's _just _and report the findings to the team in charge.

However even as she weighs the decisions against one another, Lisbon already knows the latter won't happen. As loyal to her job as she is, there's a factor here that stands out, something that shouldn't be considered when there's a potential link to a serial killer at stake, but is.

And it's Jane.

Unfortunately, her whole decision hinges on the fact that she is completely and utterly head over heels in love with the insufferable consultant.

Though she's known this for some time, Lisbon has never said it out loud, but even in her mind, the thought weighs heavily. She's spent months trying to be optimistic, for the first time in her life not evaluating every decision she's made; she almost gave up being self-critical all the time, and chose to let fate take its course, just wanting to enjoy her time with the Jane. However, now she can't prevent the irony from leaving a bitter taste in her mouth.

She should have known better. Should have never let her guard down, should have been a bit more cautious. Maybe if she did that, her heart wouldn't be constricting so painfully and the familiar feeling of dread and anguish wouldn't be taking hold of her.

Naively, for months she tried to trick herself into escaping reality, not knowing that in choosing to live in the moment, allowing herself to feel genuinely content, she would leave herself completely vulnerable to an attack from the very entity she was trying to escape.

So, while others would be completely elated by the realization that they are in love and that it is very likely reciprocated, Lisbon sits in her office, completely at a loss for what to do both with her feelings and the decision she has to make.

As angry as she wants to be with Jane, the more she thinks about it, the more she begins to understand his perspective. She remembers the words she attacked him with when he got himself arrested, the promise he made her their first night together. Of course he would think this is what she wanted. She never once told him to stop his plans, and he didn't even willingly seek out this information, it just sort of fell into his lap.

She remembers Rosalind Harker, remembers her reluctance to believe her lover had been a brutal murderer, but Jane managed to gain her trust, so Lisbon's actually not surprised Rosalind went to Jane as soon as she remembered something. When Lisbon truly thinks about the information, there's a faint flutter of hope at the pit of her belly, because as a detective, she can already feel the potential of this link to Red John, if it's handled appropriately.

Lisbon realizes that secretly she wants to go with Jane. She may not be as hell bent on revenge as he is, but she's still a cop and she wants to catch this bastard as much as everyone else does.

And as the moon begins to retreat, giving way to the first rays of sun, it becomes quite clear that the decision has already been made long before she thought about it. She can't make Jane go to Bosco with this information, there's a likelier chance of snowfall in Sacramento than that happening; but she can do something about making sure whatever information they can get on Red John is retrieved in a proper way.

Perhaps she can work this case the same way she worked the Renfrew investigation. Of course, it won't be quite as clear cut. Even then she was emotionally involved, except she didn't know it, but now, now is a completely different ball game.

She's no longer just Jane's partner and friend; instead she's his counterpart, his significant other, the title of which leads to expectations that not even they can escape. And while the thought terrifies her somewhat, makes her feel just a little claustrophobic, the inner elation she feels at being that person in his life, despite how damaged he may be, overpowers any misgiving or doubt Lisbon may have about being in a relationship with the widower.

It strikes her a bit odd, but it's also reassuring that despite everything she's uncovered tonight; there's no regret about being this close to Jane. She wouldn't change their relationship for anything. If there was something she yearned to change, it's his stance on how to punish Red John, but that's something that she may never alter so really, Lisbon knows her choice is limited. Jane will go with or without her help and that's something she knew going into this.

It doesn't make it any less painful, but at least he didn't shut her out, like he promised not to.

Now it's her turn to carry out the silent vow she made to them both.

She hasn't given up on him yet…and she's not planning on doing it now.

The sigh of relief that filters through her lips is unexpected but welcomed. She's nowhere near being okay with this, still feels the angel and devil both watching her back, but at least she's closer to being okay with her decision, not by much but enough to get out of here, go home, pray Jane is still there, and try to talk to it out with him.

Surprisingly, the thought that Jane is alone in her apartment; probably beating himself up for springing this on her in the middle of the night doesn't make Lisbon feel guilty. She refuses to feel bad for taking this time to herself, to think. After all God knows how many restless nights Jane has spent ruminating on this very issue.

He can't be upset with her for this.

However, some of the things she said, Lisbon is certain cut far deeper than Jane will ever let on, and that leaves an uncomfortable feeling of shame rising deep within her. She was right to be angry with him, but she shouldn't have said some of the well executed and sharp words, and that doesn't sit well with her.

So, before she realizes what she's doing, she's up from her chair, dumping the water bottle in the trash bin as she decides to leave, but something halts her in her step, making her pause at her desk as she meets a pair of blue eyes boring holes in her even through the sparse light in her office.

"Going somewhere?"

At first she's caught off guard by Jane's sudden appearance, but when the initial surprise wears off, Lisbon realizes she should have anticipated that he would come find her, know exactly where she went.

It is _Jane _after all.

Although she doesn't dare more from her spot next to the desk, Lisbon makes eye contact, astonished to find that instead of the pained expression she expects there, all she sees is determination,

"Not anymore," Lisbon answers, tensing somewhat as Jane walks further into the room, taking time to shut the door, though it's completely unnecessary.

When he's done, he turns around and looks her straight in the eye,

"Good, because I have something to say."

She nods, perching herself on the edge of the desk, arms wrapped tightly around her torso.

Jane watches her with an air of perceived calm that Lisbon's not used to. It's as if there's an invisible wall between them and it kills her, because somehow this time she feels responsible for installing the barrier.

She can't exactly gauge what he's about to say, because Jane has his "game face" on. The one she sees often in the room just down the hall, and it's chilling to see it make an appearance in this exchange, something way more personal than an interrogation.

"I understand that this isn't easy for you, Teresa."

However, something shifts between them as he speaks. It might be that he physically comes closer to her or it could be that his voice is completely devoid of the coldness she saw in his eyes just moments ago, or perhaps it could even be the fact that he uses her first name. Either way, Lisbon immediately softens at his first words and as Jane inches that much closer to her, she doesn't think about putting space between them.

Instead her arms yearn to wrap themselves around his torso, curl up into his chest, smell his scent, and snuggle into the softness of his t-shirt.

"I know despite your best intentions, you somehow let your guard down with me. I've seen it every single day since we reconciled and in some ways, because I know how happy you've been lately, I can't feel sorry for being the reason you let some of your defenses down."

With every word he speaks, Lisbon watches the ice melt away, revealing a twinge of that vulnerability she saw in her living room. Except this time, her anger doesn't cloud her judgment; instead, she sees clearly the affect this has on Jane.

He looks shaken but tries hard to conceal it and she finds that endearing. She's involuntarily melting under his gaze, despite the knowledge that no matter how delicate his words are or how well spoken he is, at the end of the day, they're on opposite sides of _his_ war.

Now that she's aware, it's a bit hard to understand how they can get passed that.

She just hopes he doesn't expect her to change her moral position on the issue, even if she accompanies him this one time.

Lisbon's momentary reverie doesn't go unnoticed and before she realizes, Jane is closer to her than she thinks, knees almost brushing against hers as he stands in front of her, taller, maybe stronger, but certainly not more intimidating.

He doesn't stare her down, doesn't glower at her like she thought he would. Instead, he looks down at her with affection, concern, perhaps a bit of understanding.

"I know there's something on your mind, but I need you to hear me out for just a little bit more. I need to say something that I'm not sure you realize, okay?"

His speech is soft, a barely audible string of words that form a soothing cadence. Lisbon finds herself nodding, trying to focus her exhausted mind on what he has to say, instead of branching out into a million different directions, jumping ahead of herself as she usually does.

"I know you had to get away, think things over, make up your mind, but Teresa, if you're angry, I want you to scream at me, if you're frustrated, I want you to hit me, do anything you need to, but for God's sakes don't just walk away. I know I sprung this on you, but I couldn't keep it from you any longer, not just because I promised you I wouldn't, but also because I want to."

Jane pauses, but Lisbon doesn't say anything, just continues to stare at him, large green eyes, with fatigue seeping into them. She fights it admirably, but he knows when this is all over, whatever the outcome, he's taking her home to bed and making her sleep for at least 12 hours.

He only hopes she lets him.

"Look," Jane breathes out, only mildly frustrated now at her lack of a response, "if you think I'm expecting you to change your mind about your idea of apprehending Red John when the time comes, it's not like that at all. I know we think differently, but I don't expect you to compromise what you think. You've done enough compromising already."

At this point, Lisbon wouldn't be able to say anything even if she tried. She watches as Jane runs a semi hurried hand through his hair, but instead of losing herself in the memory of threading her own fingers through the soft, blond curls, she stays completely focused on him, eyes tracing over every distinct feature on his face, those usually relaxed that now reveal a certain edginess about him.

The crease in his forehead is more pronounced than ever and his jaw is set tightly as he purses his lips together. He doesn't look older necessarily, but definitely more tense, and it's so rare to see him like this that even though they have spent virtually every day together for the last six months, the sight is still foreign.

A few moments of silence staring ensue, but eventually Lisbon softens, watches as Jane subtly deflates. For the first time, she sees the fatigue clearly on display. The edginess is still there, but it's forced now, as if he's tired of being stern, and she knows he's not used to it, especially with her.

They rarely argue anymore, and when they do it's usually playful, not so intense, not charged with so much apprehension and negative energy. So her hand reaches out to his shoulder on its own accord, a slight squeeze, but it's all that it takes for him to drop his façade, this exhausted mask he keeps reusing.

"You can say no if you like. I won't get upset. I'd understand."

Jane's voice is barely above a whisper, soft, gentle, with nothing to disguise. For the first time since he entered the room, there's no zeal in his tone, no overt reason to try to prove anything. Instead, he speaks the unadorned version of the truth, and Lisbon believes him.

She believes that he wouldn't be upset at her for declining his offer, that he has absolutely no expectations that she will change her mind about Red John, and that in itself makes her laugh humorlessly.

Jane looks suspiciously at her, eyebrow raised as he tries to make sense of her reaction.

It's too ironic for Lisbon not to at least have a smirk on her face. She'd been so worried about Jane taking too much away from this, thinking he can somehow sway her to his side if (when) they find Red John that she never actually considered that all he really wanted was support.

It's sad, tragic almost, how misguided they both are and it's equally devastating that neither one of them will budge to the point that the other would ever expect them to.

Lisbon knows she can't dissuade him, but when he came out with Rosalind's information, the first thought that entered her mind had been whether he expected this to be one step in a long row of compromises, if he was perhaps trying to inadvertently use her as a pawn.

It may not be fair that she jumped to that conclusion and allowed it cloud her objectivity, but it's definitely something she'd seen Jane do in the past and only now understands that by including her in his plans, he brought her very quickly down to earth, forcing her to double up on her defenses, effectively making her think the worst.

Perhaps, it's now time to let go of these extremes…maybe there is a happy medium to this, perhaps not between them two but for her internally.

Jane is patient, but she sees him stir in front of her, more relaxed but less calm than usually. She can already predict that in a few seconds if she doesn't say something, he'll begin teetering on his heels and looking around as if he's in her office for the first time, and though that may amuse her, the exhaustion she feels is just another indication that her answer is long overdue.

"No badge."

Lisbon catches him off guard, but not even now is she immune to the unintentional smile that lights up his features. The creases around his eyes, the ones she finds so sexy sometimes, soften unconsciously, as she watches the tension leave his body.

"Just like that?" Jane asks, and Lisbon tries very hard to push away the warmth infringing on her when she sees his rueful smile and hears his hopeful tone.

She takes a deep breath, standing up to move a little away from him, hoping to regain her stability, clear her mind of his proximity, that _Janeness_ that can get her feeling inebriated without a drop of alcohol.

"No," She stops, turning around, green eyes determined.

He looks disappointed for a moment, and Lisbon is shocked she can see his emotions so unabashedly displayed on his face, "It won't be just like_ that_. There are conditions, boundaries, rules that I expect you to actually follow if we're going to do this."

His face lights up again and she thinks what she says next will probably fall on deaf ears but she says it regardless and is a little surprised when it appears as if Jane is hanging on her every word, "we're going to work it like the Renfrew case. Except this time, absolutely no mention of the CBI. I am not a special agent; you are in no way affiliated with the CBI. If the kid asks how we found them, we say his mom gave us the address."

She's about to say more, but when she feels herself engulfed in a pair of very strong and familiar arms, the words halt in her throat. For a moment, Lisbon lets herself be held, indulges in the care and comfort Jane unquestionably provides, but it's only a moment, just long enough for him to whisper a quiet but heartfelt 'thank you' into her hair, before she pulls away, pressing a palm to his chest.

"I'm serious, Jane. I'm so serious in fact that I'm bringing neither my badge nor my gun, we're both going as civilians, so if this kid turns out to be some street thug-…"

Her voice trails off as the smile on Jane's face grows. She's managed to extricate herself from his hug, but he refuses to let her go, hands wrapped around her waist loosely; she can barely feel them through the layers of clothing.

She does however fully appreciate the wideness of his grin and the way his face is almost back to its usual vibrancy, looking far younger despite the two days' old scruff and wrinkled t-shirt.

It's rare that Jane looks so unkempt, but it's testament to how distracted he was by their argument and her hand itches to reach out and run itself across the stubble on his cheek, but she doesn't.

Instead, Lisbon sighs heavily, muttering to herself as she realizes that he really isn't listening, "oh hell…let's just go home."

She pushes past him, the rash movement reminding her how lethargic she feels, her limbs weighted down not only by the unnecessary winter coat but also by her seeming inability to get through to the flippant consultant.

Maybe she shouldn't have consented right away; perhaps starting with her conditions would have been more efficient.

She's too deep in her reverie to realize Jane is pulling her back by the hand, until he has her flush against him, deep cerulean eyes fixed on her, their shade somehow more distinct in the clarity of early morning.

"Don't think that just because I'm smiling, I'm not listening. I'll accept any conditions you have, after all the pay off is rather sweet in my opinion."

And just like that, with a few choice words, as only he can, Jane pacifies the nagging feeling of disappointment already taking root in her chest. Lisbon stares wide eyed at him, unsure of whether to push him away or hold him closer-not an unusual sentiment when it comes to the blond-but unexpectedly, a rather strange sound breaks their silent staring contest and Jane positively beams as Lisbon feels her cheeks heat up.

She shouldn't have declined his offer for take out last night…now her stomach has found the most inappropriate time to remind her that the last thing she ate was a couple M&Ms stolen from Rigsby when he dozed off on the car ride home.

"Someone's hungry…" Jane teases in his sing song voice as soon as the noise subsides, and Lisbon has to physically restraint herself from the annoyed look that threatens to cross her features.

She turns her face away from his just slightly and the sunrays that filter in from the open blinds through the bullpen catch her in a brilliant light and for a moment, Jane falls silent, impossibly taken aback by the radiant woman in front of him, distinct features all the more beautiful in this illumination.

In a split second, his smile drops, his chest swells, and he once again remembers just how lucky he is. In all honesty, he hadn't expected her to say yes. Of course, he knew at the time he got arrested that she meant what she said about him letting her in more, but he couldn't quite believe that she would be so open to the idea.

He's more certain now than ever that he's falling unwaveringly in love with her and it's an uncanny feeling to have in this situation. His heart seems to know it too, because it twists unnaturally as he realizes that he can't possibly continue living this double life anymore.

He'll have to make a decision soon.

Lisbon would never ask him to give up, Jane knows that, but he also realizes his sanity is not quite as resilient as the brunette currently trying to keep her blush under control. A chill accompanies the ache in his chest as he finds himself questioning whether he's not pushing them both into something they may not get out of together.

He hasn't truly turned over in his mind what this could mean for his pursuit of Red John. Of course, he's thought in depth about it, but hasn't truly allowed himself to face the brutal reality that if they can somehow figure out what Red John looks like, he'll come that much closer to finding the murderer.

And although the thought should entice Jane, encourage him to pursue this as soon as possible, he finds himself feeling the tiniest bit of dread at this incredible revelation.

"Patrick,"

He looks up to find Lisbon staring at him, the quirked eyebrow a simple mask for the concern swimming in her eyes.

He can't quite believe it himself, but sometimes the brunette can read him almost as well as he can read her. It should be unsettling, but he's somehow liberated by it, secretly glad he doesn't have to spell out his every doubt and fear to her.

It also makes for quite uncomfortable silences as he wonders what to say.

Fortunately for him, her hunger doesn't go away and Jane finds himself exchanging playful smiles with the brunette as her stomach growls again.

He steps closer to her, gingerly wrapping his arm around her waist and unexpectedly pressing his lips to her temple. It feels like so long since he's kissed her that the simple action calms him far more than anything else ever could.

"You must be famished, darling. I mean I can hear your stomach through this many layers of clothing."

His good natured tease earns him a huff and a gentle swat on his chest as Lisbon tries to keep a smile off her face.

"Oh shut up," she quips back, trying to stifle a yawn.

He notices yet again how tired she is, and suddenly remembers where they are,

"c'mon," Jane says softly, already escorting her to the door, "let's get you home and fed."

Normally, Lisbon would protest or at the very least make a sarcastic comment about being treated like a child, but she's too exhausted, both mentally and physically to care, and the thought of her bed, preferably with Jane in it seems like a dream come true at this point.

So instead of delivering a snarky response, she simply rests her weight on Jane, relieved to find him just as strong and solid besides her as he always has been; she buries her face in his chest, inhaling the mixture of soap and spice that reminds her distinctly of Jane,

"Will you make me pancakes?" Lisbon asks in a small voice and the low rumble of laughter as Jane replies makes her feel warmer than it should.

"Blueberry or banana?" He asks, dipping into his memory palace to reacquaint himself with the contents of Lisbon's fridge.

"Both," she mumbles, pulling him towards the door.

He smiles again, low chuckle as he lets her guide him, "both it is."

Thinking it far too little of a repayment for everything she's done for him so far.

Lisbon's mind is in a completely calm induced haze as they wait for the elevator in silence. Despite all the misgivings she has, those that threaten to attack her fully once she's more lucid, holding onto Jane, having his arms protectively around her, Lisbon realizes that yes, this has changed things, altered them in a significant way, but she has an advantage, she's no longer blinded, she has clarity, awareness.

And with awareness come strength and perseverance, so perhaps with Jane by her side, she can find a way to merge together not only her cross roads but also his…maybe there's a way for her and Jane's goals to coexist in his world.

_Maybe... _

***


	20. Part XX: Red Grenades

**Running Through Red Lights**

Disclaimer: Don't own anything…Lyrics by Foo Fighters.

Rating: M

Spoiler: Red Badge, Black Gold and Red Blood.

A/N: I am really sorry about the delay. School's been insanely hectic. Special thanks to Heather, my new beta, who is incredibly helpful, encouraging, and generally awesome. Also, thank you for everyone who waited patiently for this chapter and to all my new readers. You have no idea how much it means to me that you take the time to review. I really hope you like this chapter; it's definitely dedicated to all of you. Thanks!

***

Part XX: Red Grenades

"_The page is out of print  
we are not permanent  
we're temporary, temporary  
same old story…"_

She hears her brother's voice, understands what he's saying, even manages to respond occasionally, but she's definitely not present in the conversation.

Her mind is simply elsewhere, floating around in a different dimension as she tries to stay focused. However, it seems damn near impossible for her to concentrate on anything. Everything is still in a beautiful spin, a mess, a complete and utter disarray of thought and emotion.

The day is bright and a ray of sunshine hits her squarely in the face, even though she tries to evade it. There's not a hint of rain, no chill, nothing to suggest that it's the day before Christmas Eve. The only possible indications are the lackluster decorations on the window of the convenience store adjacent to the gas station.

The "Merry Christmas" spray painted in blues, reds, and whites across the glass is lopsided and there is a pathetic looking Christmas tree drawn right beneath it. Luke keeps talking, switching the subject from the dreaded Christmas dinner with his in-laws to the presents she sent for him and his wife.

She's happy he's excited about them, but she can't find it in herself to respond with equal fervor. Instead her eyes fall upon the side mirror; what she finds there makes her shiver and press her thighs together, a secret smile spreading over her lips as Jane grins back at her, blue eyes never wavering from hers as he pumps gas into his beloved blue car.

Despite the fact that they're about to go see this Evans kid and that whatever information they find may threaten the perfect Christmas she has envisioned in her head, one look from Jane is all it takes for Lisbon's mind to completely drift away.

While her brother tries to guess what gift she bought him, Lisbon's thoughts fixate on something else entirely and she can't contain the blush that rises on her cheeks, spreading heat from her throat up.

She couldn't sleep last night. After leaving her office and gorging on stacks of blueberry and banana pancakes, they curled up on her couch, intent on watching a movie, anything to take the edge off, maybe return a few things to normalcy. However, it didn't work.

Sometime after the opening credits, Lisbon could no longer fight the exhaustion seeping deep into her bones, returning full force thanks to the food sitting contentedly in her stomach. She fell asleep only to wake up in her bed a few hours later with no memory of how she got there.

Jane was dozing beside her, but woke up the second she slid out of bed. He gave her a warm, sleepy smile, and she couldn't resist the urge to lean over and kiss him. He responded eagerly, and it felt like forever since they'd kissed. Warmth blossomed in her belly, growing, making her toes curl, and in a sudden flash of desperation, Lisbon wished she could stay like this forever.

His soft lips contrasted nicely with the hardness of his body as Jane held her close, making her wish that he would never let go. Still, it never escalated. Eventually, Jane pulled back and Lisbon settled herself without comment atop his chest, legs and arms draped over his body, holding him tight.

They didn't speak all day. Aside from some banter over breakfast, they tried so hard to stay away from discussing their impending trip, that the rest of their conversation seemed stilted and uncomfortable.

Lisbon didn't want it that way, but figured it couldn't possibly be otherwise, not after the argument they had. Most people went to cool off, took time away from each other, but not them. No, instead in all their dysfunction, they clung to each other, fighting silently against the unease each felt.

It was only when they lay in her bed that Lisbon could finally let herself relax, pushing thoughts of everything else away. That was the influence Jane's touch had on her. Sometimes she wondered if he would ever need to actively hypnotize her again, when it seemed like just the safety and comfort of his arms caused all the anxiety to slip from her body.

Later, they made dinner, working side-by-side in companionable silence. It reminded her of Thanksgiving, leaving her with a sense of calm she hadn't felt since before Jane had spilled his news to her. They'd split a bottle of wine and finished the movie they'd neglected earlier. However, despite the constant yawns and the drowsy tug of the alcohol, sleep seemed as elusive as ever when they'd slid into bed, the next day's plans weighing heavily on their minds.

As soon as the dark of night settled, the realization of what they were about to do crept up on Lisbon, jolting her entire system, keeping her alert for hours on end. Jane lay dutifully beside her, never saying a word as she tossed and turned, perhaps aware that there wasn't really much he could say to quell her fears at the moment.

Lisbon could sense his apprehension, knew in the back of her head that as self-assured and calm as he usually was, Jane wasn't oblivious to the implications of what they were about to face. Though he stayed quiet, his arm never left its position around her waist. Although the gentle soothing motion of his palm against her hip as they spooned didn't bring sleep, it allowed her a few precious hours of solace, holding the tension only slightly at bay.

Eventually however, the room proved to be too stifling and her mouth was suddenly parched. Jane's breathing had evened out considerably at some point, so she managed to slip out of bed without disturbing him, belting her housecoat before escaping downstairs.

The kitchen was shrouded in darkness and the floor felt refreshingly cold against her bare feet. She shivered for a moment as she watched the water streaming from the faucet fill up her glass. She didn't have a chance to take the sip of the much needed refreshment, however, because a pair of very familiar arms encircled her from behind, the length of his warm, strong frame barely pressing against her, but it was enough.

It was enough to let her know what he wanted, what he _needed_, maybe what both of them needed to make it through the next day; the reassurance both physical and emotional that their bond could transcend any obstacle, any hurdle that was yet to come.

She didn't say anything, didn't move; instead concentrated on the path of his fingers as they slid down her front, applying slight pressure that sent a familiar wave of anticipation all the way down to her toes and back up again.

Lisbon expected him to untie her robe, slide his hands inside, yearned for his touch on her bare skin, but instead Jane did something unexpected, something that quite possibly made her love him even more. Resting an arm around her waist, he pulled her back against him, moved the hair away from her neck, and whispered in her ear,

"I don't want to lose this with you."

He pressed his lips against her shoulder and even though it was just a faint brush against her skin, almost imperceptible, it still ignited a spark, one that quickly burst into a flame with the first words he'd spoken in hours. She spun around in their embrace, pulling his mouth to hers with an urgency unlike she'd ever felt before.

His words breached the dam, releasing all the doubt and anxiety that she tried to suppress, to swirl with his own unvoiced concerns, building into a frightening maelstrom.

So in an effort to tuck this overwhelming feeling away somewhere it couldn't touch her, Lisbon tried to clear her mind. Drawing on her dogged determination, she forced herself to focus only on this moment, regardless of what would happen tomorrow. She pulled back from the kiss only momentarily, just long enough for them to lock eyes, silent understanding passing between them as Jane hoisted her onto the counter. Instinctively, she wrapped her legs around him, pulling him closer.

Together, they tumbled into a welcoming cloud of skin and heat. All she could see, smell, and touch was Jane. Every stroke of his fingers, every brush of his mouth against her skin as his hands slipped beneath her nightgown, washing away the nagging tension in both her muscles and her heart.

Her hands waved their way into his curls, fingers threading through them, shivering as he pressed himself against her. His hand slipped between them, pushing her closer and closer to the brink of sanity as she fought to support herself against the counter, heedless of the clatter of her water glass tumbling into the sink.

Not even the crack of glass or the edge of the cupboard digging into her shoulder could distract Lisbon from the burning inside her, that indescribable sensation that threatened to overtake her all too soon.

She wanted to feel him badly, wanted to wrap her entire body around him. She was almost embarrassed by the instantaneous reaction of her every nerve whenever he was close to her.

However, Jane was in his own world, spreading feverish kisses over her neck and shoulders, cheeks and nose, before finally settling on her lips. His hands never stopped moving, fingers slipping underneath her clothes, molding perfectly to her breast, the flick of his thumb drawing out a moan and an accompanying dig of her heels into his lower back.

Lisbon tugged him even closer, trying to alleviate the delicious ache consuming her, but he only taunted her with the promise of more while leaving her helplessly on the edge.

It was what she loved most about Jane as a lover. He took his time, even in the most urgent of circumstances, even when she wanted raw, mindless, and frantic, he always delivered it with a twinge of patience, indication of underlying strength and composure.

She'd only seen him truly come apart once, the first time they'd been together. It had been such a build up, such an accumulation of tension, and untapped emotions. Exhausted of running, of hiding from these feelings between them, of sublimating the passion that couldn't be contained even after years of mastering the art of restraint, he'd given in.

And somehow despite the disarming pleasure she enjoyed at the time, Lisbon felt a far deeper ache now. She wanted to see him let go, needed him to stop hiding completely, so when his mouth finally resettled on hers, tongue tracing her lower lip, always coaxing, never demanding, she pulled back, capturing his face between her hands.

She didn't need words, green eyes sliding over his features, communicating everything silently. She feared that she would ruin the moment with unnecessary speech, and as soon as the line of confusion etched into Jane's forehead dissolved, Lisbon slid her heels down his back, hooking her toes into the waist band of his pants and pushing them to the floor.

Drawing her legs back up, she shuddered as his skin glided against hers. It felt like velvet and silk interlacing, warmth everywhere, staving off the chill of the kitchen air as Jane pulled her nightgown over her head, fingers delicately tracing her spine as they traveled to her hips.

He seemed to be handling her with such care, such vigilance, that she didn't anticipate him grasping her thighs and roughly pressing himself flush against her. She gasped when she felt him, but then the tightness in her stomach and the intensity of his dark cobalt gaze instilled in her a sense of confidence only this kind of intimacy could bring. This time it was Jane who groaned against her shoulder as she ran her fingers down his torso, over the smooth planes of his stomach, before going lower still, teasing him with her touch, reveling in the way he seemed to shudder, almost tremble against her.

She'd almost forgotten that his hands and lips were still on her, until a jolt of pleasure shot through her entire system as he began to move his hand in unison with hers. The other buried itself wrist deep in her hair as he pulled her into a kiss, mouth hot and heavy against hers. Her control threatened to snap as he explored her mouth, teeth scraping gently against her lips, tongue teasing, at first languid, and then urgent, zealous, driving her to pull him even closer, until there was no space left between their bodies, no room to breathe.

She could feel his heart beat against her breast and she knew that if they didn't move apart soon, there'd be an imprint of her mother's cross on Jane's chest.

Lisbon didn't care. She could concentrate on nothing else except the man in front of her, who was now staring back at her, seeking silent confirmation. She eased herself closer still, and despite the counter's edge digging painfully into her thighs, didn't stop until she felt him inside her.

No matter how many times they did this, Lisbon couldn't quite shake a hint of disbelief, a quiet marvel inside of her whenever she felt him this close, enveloped in his heat, in his scent, in his warmth. This time, however, was different. Regardless of what the future held, looking into Jane's eyes, Lisbon felt a connection that hadn't been there before, like the sharing of a well-kept secret, one that had been kept under lock and key.

It was electrifying.

They remained still for a moment, reveling in the feel of each other, the strength, courage, perhaps even love, that bridged the gap between them. However, the tide pleasure that swelled beneath the surface threatened to rise and before Lisbon could catch up with the moment, Jane began moving.

They became a heady blur of skin gliding, ragged breaths, and frantic kisses. Jane kept his mouth on hers the whole time, absorbing the shallow gasps that escaped her throat. His hands were everywhere, her breasts, her legs, her neck, cheeks, ribcage.

When she finally managed to open eyes that she couldn't remember closing, shuddering in his arms, her breath caught in her throat as the tight rope of self-control she'd been treading finally snapped, the intensity of his gaze only hastened her release.

The heat completely undid her, fluid elation coursing through her veins as every nerve ending, every pore in her skin seemed to be reacting, reeling, aching from complete abandon. Still, she was very much aware of the sounds being drawn from Jane as he sank his teeth into her shoulder, his whole body moving against her, tightening inside her. Fighting the lassitude that threatened to overtake her, Lisbon wrapped her arms around his shoulders, stroking the damp hair at the base of his neck, her lips grazing his ear, whispering his name…before pulling him into a soft kiss.

She wanted so desperately to watch him let go, to memorize his face in that moment of ultimate unwinding, but she couldn't bear to pull away from his lips, taking secret pleasure in the guttural sounds escaping him as his body moved to an unknown rhythm that was pulling her along, reminding her that he could make her fall apart all over again without even trying.

The delicious torture peaked unexpectedly as Jane shuddered against her for a final time, bringing her down with him, a cocoon of bliss and exhaustion enveloping them as they pulled back from the kiss, foreheads resting against each other, eyes still closed, shallow breaths circulating as heartbeats began to slow to a normal pace.

They stayed like that for what seemed like hours, though it was likely only several minutes, but something uncanny happened in those few silent moments.

There'd been plenty of intense exchanges between them before, both romantic and angry, both clothed and naked, but as she opened her eyes, searching out his distinctive blues in the light of early dawn, Lisbon realized she'd never felt closer to anyone than she did right that second, and she knew Jane felt it too.

Suddenly, she couldn't stop herself, couldn't hold back all the questions that plagued her mind, the ones she'd wondered about for months but never managed to find a way to raise.

She couldn't guess what tomorrow would bring and she was done putting it off.

So she asked.

She asked everything and he answered her. They didn't move from the counter; they didn't bother with covering themselves up or pulling away.

All that mattered were the words coming out of Jane's mouth, the explanations to everything she'd been wondering about for what seemed like an eternity.

He told her about putting his old house on the market, about how he'd had to get his realtor to pack away his furniture, because he couldn't bring himself to do it.

He told her about his shame knowing that all his daughter's things and his wife's beautiful piano were now gathering dust in some storage locker while his realtor shamelessly used his sordid past as a selling feature.

That guilt also kept him away from the beach front property he'd bought shortly after. Still he considered it a small victory that he was able to move on at least a little bit, that he managed to stop spending nights beneath the faded remnants of his family's demise. With a soft smile, he admitted that a lot of that had to do with her and the feelings he'd been denying for months.

He told her how that night on her porch after he'd helped clear her name had made him realize a lot of things, had forced him to acknowledge that while his mind wanted to dwell on the past, obsess about vengeance, his heart was moving on and he was powerless to stop it.

Lisbon wasn't sure how to react to that, she still couldn't really wrap her mind around the fact that she played a significant part in Jane's first step to making peace, but she couldn't help the swell of elation that welled up within her at the knowledge.

Even now, as she looks at the piece of paper in her lap, Rob Evans' address printed neatly in Jane's handwriting, she can't stop smiling as she thinks back on everything Jane had shared with her just a few hours ago.

She hadn't said anything special, just thanked him for his honesty, for sharing something so intimate with her, and the disarming smile he'd given her before suggesting a joint shower had been enough to dissolve her fears, at least temporarily.

They'd made love again after that. Under the incessant pelt of hot water, their movements became slow and languid, kisses were no longer frenzied but luxurious leaving her body humming even now as she shuts her eyes, picturing the naked lust reflected in Jane's gaze as he'd hoisted her up against the shower wall.

Her brother has long since hung up, promising to call the next day, but Lisbon doesn't even remember saying goodbye; instead her mind is still fresh with memories and revelations.

She doesn't regret her questions, feels like it brought them somehow closer together, something she thinks they desperately need right now.

She knows he needs her support, needs her quiet strength in all of this, and she's willing to give it to him now more than ever, because whether he meant to or not, he opened up a part of himself last night that had been a complete mystery to her.

It was a dark part that she hadn't wanted to probe, but now that she has scratched the surface she feels vindicated in her beliefs, in her decision to stand by him. Lisbon now knows that even before they got together, he'd already contemplated moving on, not from his path of vengeance but at least from the self-imposed torment he'd lived in for years.

Learning that she had unknowingly contributed to that makes Lisbon smile to herself, pulling her bottom lip between her teeth as she hopes the blush on her cheeks has subsided.

Apparently it hasn't, because as soon as Jane slides into the driver's seat, his eye is suspiciously trained on her, blatantly sizing her up.

"What?" she asks, raising her eyebrow defensively in hopes of distracting him from the teasing that will undoubtedly ensue.

"Nothing," Jane replies, but the look in his eye a little too innocent, enough to signal mischief as his lip curves into a half smile and he buckles his seatbelt.

"If you don't want to share," He begins and Lisbon can't help the eye roll. Whoever said women were the only ones who were ever passive aggressive was seriously misguided.

She lets out a sigh as his voice trails off, mock hurt thinly disguising his teasing tone. She wants to be playful, doesn't want the mood to be quite so serious, but she can't help the tightness in her chest, or the uncontained delight she feels at knowing he trusts her so implicitly.

Instead of teasing him right back, Lisbon moves her hand over the stick shift and rests it on his before Jane can turn the car on.

"I was just thinking about last night." Lisbon says vaguely and Jane looks at her with surprise and then with a devilish glint.

"Uh, well then I understand the smile and the faint blush on your cheeks. You my dear, embarrass far too easily."

For good measure, he reaches over and runs his thumb across the apple of her cheek, even hotter to the touch now that he's pointed out her condition.

Lisbon has the urge to swat his hand away, childishly cross her arms, and glare out the window for the rest of the short ride to the Evans residence; but a part of her wants to prove to him that concealing how he feels behind endless jokes and deflected conversation does not have to be a full-time job.

She knows that even after how candid he had been with her last night and all the ones prior, Jane still struggles with being honest, open, with letting her see that part of him that he fears she'll hate, so instead of perpetuating the levity, she merely squeezes his hand in response and smiles back serenely.

"Thank you for answering all my questions, for not pushing me away."

Jane seems startled by her honesty, by her straightforwardness, but it quickly subsides, replaced by understanding, gratitude and a twinge of acceptance. She doesn't want him to say anything, no explanations, no afterthoughts, nothing.

She wants to leave his secrets wrapped inside her mind, wants to leave all talk of the night before behind. Their exchange was sacred, personal, intimate in a way she's never experienced before, and it runs deeper than any connection she's had with anyone in her life. She feels like any more talk, any more allusions to it may tarnish the significance and the singularity of everything Jane has shared with her.

She also kind of likes having the last word.

So before Jane can say anything, though he doesn't seem to be in a hurry to respond, Lisbon reaches up and runs her fingers through his curls one more time. It's a loving gesture, one that's rare for someone who doesn't like public displays of affection.

"Ready?" Lisbon asks, the paper in her lap now feeling like a ton of bricks as she reminds herself of the task they've set out to do.

Jane nods, taking the hand resting on his shoulder and kissing her knuckles.

"As long as you're with me."

And for a moment, she thinks she can face anything.

***

He's sitting by the window, eyes watching the empty street. The sun pouring into the room hits him squarely in the face and in his effort to avoid it, he runs the back of his hand across his forehead. The dampness on his knuckles reminds him of the sweat dripping from his hairline, and suddenly the peaceful denial he's in evaporates.

He becomes keenly aware of the way his leg won't stop shaking, realizes that the cold beer in his hand doesn't take the edge off. His eyes frantically survey the room for the umpteenth time, but he already knows there's nothing here that's of any worth.

He's pawned everything.

The mattress in the corner and the various other personal belongings scattered around the bare room are of no value. With no hope of relief, he tries desperately to quell the desire inside him, the all-consuming focus on one thing and one thing only.

He shuts his eyes, tries to fight the craving, supplanting one drug for the other by taking a hefty pull from the bottle, but it's no use. There's no substitute for what he needs, what he desires, what he _craves_.

His eyes glaze over as he remembers his last hit and if he tries hard enough, in the quietude of his surroundings, he can almost imagine he's gotten a taste of what he so urgently wants. If he tries hard enough, he can already feel the intense euphoria and indestructibility that only comes with his trusted friend.

The fantasy feels so incredibly real, he thinks nothing can tear him away, but the distant sound of a car door slamming shut breaks the illusion, reminding him of the frailty of his imaginings. He opens his eyes, gazing out the window and spots a couple across the street. At first, he doesn't think much of them, averting his gaze elsewhere, even though it's clearly obvious that there's an air of authority about the petite brunette that is hard to ignore, and that the man beside her looks strikingly out of place in a light gray three piece suit.

That's about all the observation he can muster until the inside of his elbow begins to itch again and his fingers wrap tighter around the beer bottle in an effort not to scratch. It's painful to refrain but he manages somehow, reminding himself with a brief glance to the puncture mark on his skin that it could likely be infected by now.

He grimaces at the wound, then looks away, trying to clear his mind, trying to focus on getting as much pleasure from the alcohol slowly making its way through his empty system as possible. Still, his attention invariably travels to the window again, and when he notices the couple cross the street with matching determination and approach the entrance to his rundown duplex, he knows he should be worried.

However, his eyes lock onto something else entirely. The woman is dressed conservatively, hiding what is likely to be a softly curved figure, but his mind doesn't catalogue that bit of information. Instead he feels a tightening in his belly, the feeling of anticipatory elation in his heart disguises the danger of his thoughts.

The sunlight shines down on her and he quickly detects something sparkling, golden, hanging around the woman's neck. He can't figure out what it is, but it doesn't matter.

He's certain that it's valuable. Nothing cheap shines like that in natural daylight, and without much thought accompanying his actions, he drops the bottle of beer onto the floor, amber liquid staining the carpet as he makes his way to the front door, making sure his army knife is still in his pocket. After all, he didn't miss the look of focus in the woman's eye; she may not make it easy on him.

He opens the door before the taller, blond man has a chance to knock, but his guests don't appear startled. In fact, he feels the other man sizing him up, while the woman steps closer to him, extending her hand.

"Are you Robert Evans?" she asks, and he nods, eyes never leaving the chain around her neck.

It's a cross, generic looking, but it'll do.

He takes a step towards her, but feels the blond's gaze on him, boring into him, body partially blocking his path.

Rob looks to his left, brow furrowed as he looks the man up and down.

"What do you want?" he asks, barely restraining his frustration. He doesn't really care what they're here for, could care less what their intentions are, all he wants is the chain around the woman's neck.

He focuses on the necklace again. His hand slides imperceptibly into his pocket, as the woman takes a tentative step towards him. She uses a calm tone, but he's blinded by desire.

"We just want to ask you a few questions, Rob. That's all."

His hand closes around the knife, thumb tracing over the metal, as he nods his understanding, but it's almost like he doesn't feel himself doing it. He just wants the damn fucking chain and then he'll answer any questions they want.

They stand like that for what seems like hours, until he realizes that he hasn't taken his eyes off her neck, and the look the woman sends to the man standing behind him indicates that she recognizes his fixation. He hears her coaxing suggestions, asking him if they can come in or would he'd prefer to take a walk instead, but he can't concentrate.

His vision tunnels and his mind is made up. Without warning, he lunges towards the brunette. Her eyes grow wide and he realizes she must see the knife in his hand, but he can't stop himself. He zones in on his prize, hand twitching at his side to rip it off and find his way to the nearest pawn shop.

Fear has edged into her eyes but she is otherwise composed and it only encourages him on.

"Lisbon," he hears the man behind him caution, followed by a rough hold on his shoulder, pulling him back. He's not used to physical violence, but he hasn't had a hit in days. His withdrawal symptoms have made him so delirious, throwing him off kilter both mentally and physically. Therefore, even though the man in his expensive suit probably has 50 pounds on him, the blond is no match for the surge of force that ripples through his body, as he pushes the larger man back. To his surprise, he hears the loud thud as the man's head connects with something hard.

"Jane!"

The woman's eyes grow wide with fear that morphs quickly into anger as she sprints forward, but he doesn't let her go far. His hands move before he can even register the thought.

When she tries to push past him, he blocks her path, grabbing her around the shoulders with the hand holding the knife. Despite the proximity of the blade, she tries to break his hold, putting up more of a fight than he'd expected. However, the adrenaline is still driving him and he's not going to give up. His free hand yanks at the chain, ripping it apart. Clutching it tightly in his palm, he shoves her and tries to run.

He doesn't gain much ground before she's tackling him from behind, trying to wrestle the chain from his fist, but he refuses to let go. Before his brain can catch up with his hands, the color drains from the woman's face as his knife slices straight through her thigh, vertical cut from hip to knee.

His eyes only momentarily register the crimson staining her dark pants, but it's the sight of the silver blade of his army knife stained in dark red blood that actually jolts him awake, makes him acknowledge what he's done.

He staggers back, doesn't even realize that as the woman struggles to stay up, biting her lip against the pain and applying pressure to the wound, his left fist falls open and the necklace, his whole purpose for the last few inconceivable moments, falls to the ground. This time it's not adrenaline, not strength that guides him, but fear, and still clutching the knife in his hand, he takes off running down the street.

He runs as fast as he can until his lungs burn from lack of oxygen, his mind trying to erase the image of the bleeding woman. He looks over his shoulder only once, just long enough to realize that she actually had it in her to chase after him, but ultimately collapsed; her body on the empty sidewalk now too far away from him to assess the damage.

He turns the corner two blocks later, distance allowing respite as he slows down, no imminent danger present.

The craving, which seemed to abate in the frenzy, is now back, more potent than ever and he suddenly remembers the knife in his hand. It's one of his only possessions, one of the only things he hasn't tried to sell yet, but the sight of blood is just too much, even for him. So he dumps it in the bushes as he walks, heartbeat returning somewhat to normal.

He doesn't know how much times passes, but just as soon as he begins to wonder what he'll do now that he can't even return to the dump he's been living in thanks to his mom's monthly checks, a car pulls up to the sidewalk, cutting him off as he tries to cross the street.

He thinks nothing of it, until the driver rolls down the window and leans across the console to smile at him.

The man looks familiar, but Rob doesn't dwell on it. Instead his eyes immediately zero in on the empty passenger seat where a small white baggie calls to him like a beacon, pushing any apprehension he might feel to the very back of his mind.

The yearning only grows when he realizes the cure he's been waiting for is finally within reach. So when the man asks if he'd like a ride, there's no second guessing.

No questioning, no doubt, just reassurance, certainty.

He'll have his fix now.

He's earned it after all.

***


	21. Part XXI: Stretching the Wire

**Running Through Red Lights**

Disclaimer: Don't own anything…Lyrics by The Verve.

Rating: M

Spoiler: Red Badge, Black Gold and Red Blood.

A/N: Hey guys! Thank you SO much for making this my most reviewed story so far. I am beyond flattered by all the feedback I keep getting. It really inspires me. I want to thank my beta, Heather, for proving once again that she's an incredibly thorough and dedicated editor, at least half the credit for this chapter should go to her! Thanks! I'm leaving on vacation for two weeks this Friday but I'll have internet access and hopefully some time to write, so I'll try to post just as regularly. Hope you guys enjoy this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it. It's probably one of my favorite in this whole story.

XXX

Part XXI: Stretching the Wire

"_No change, I can change  
I can change, I can change  
But I'm here in my mold  
I am here in my mold…"_

XXX

He's not completely certain, but he concludes that it's possible.

He's never done it before, never really had a reason to; but as he sits in the horribly uncomfortable plastic chair in the ER waiting room, Jane decides that sometime between waking up in a daze on Evans' doorstep, and arriving at the hospital, he'd inadvertently hypnotized himself.

There's no other logical explanation for why he feels so disconnected from everything.

The atmosphere around him is hectic, noisy, charged with anxiety, urgency. People bustle past him with purpose, faces unguarded and mostly grim. Usually, even in a high stress situation, he would be in the midst of the action, or at least actively observing the players. However, he is only engulfed by a numbness that dulls all his senses.

He's impermeable to the cloying hospital odor of antiseptic and sickness. He doesn't see the concerned faces of the nurses as they stare at him. He doesn't hear the anxious whispers of other next of kin waiting for news. He tastes nothing, because his mouth is parched.

And words, speech, his only true weapon, have failed him as well.

It's as though he's been excised from the world around him, cut off from everything, leaving him open and vulnerable. He's defenseless against the all consuming burning in his gut, the vines of guilt that wrap around his heart and refuse to let it go.

On the outside he's calm, seemingly in his own world, but he can hardly breathe, doesn't know how his heart can still be beating, how he hasn't already punched a hole in the opposite wall, marring the sickly white paint with an indentation of his knuckles.

He doesn't know what holds him together, but he figures that it has a lot to do with the simple fact that he is not going to lose Lisbon.

At least not physically.

No, she's going to be alright. The cut was long, jagged, but the wound is shallow, and at the EMT's first glance, missed all the vital blood vessels. Still, Jane can't imagine how that's possible considering the amount of blood that seeped out of it.

He wishes his eyes would close as the image of Lisbon in his lap, pale as a sheet and unconscious, materializes in front of him, but instead of darkness, he finds himself staring down at his lap. It's the first time he notices the red stains dried into the dark gray fabric of his pants.

Blood.

_Lisbon's blood_.

His fist twitches at the thought, as he tries to catch a breath, heartbeat escalating as the vice wraps tighter around him, lack of sensation giving way to the prickle of needles all over his body, nicking his insides, tormenting him with that unwelcomed burning again. However, as he unfurls his palm, the glint of gold shines in his hand and something about the sight of the small and very simple cross, now dangling off a broken chain, placates him.

It should disgust him, this normally insignificant piece of jewelry, but it doesn't. Despite what most would think, the cross isn't to blame for Lisbon's condition, he is. _He's _the reason why she's behind closed doors, doped up on anesthetic, and being sewn up.

It's all _his_ fault.

Not Evans', not even Red John's, but his, solely his and he'd recognized that the moment he'd become lucid.

Though, as his thumb traces over the delicate engravings on the gold pendant, he thinks it might take some time accepting the fact. Accepting the realization that his single-mindedness, his obsession, his utter mistrust of everyone around him, has hurt the only person who matters, the only one who has been his hope for any sort of future. Now, even if she wants to speak to him afterward, and she will, because she's Lisbon, selfless and loyal to the point of fault, there are still far more reaching consequences, ramifications outside of his or her control.

This isn't a game anymore.

He knows there's no way to avoid the department finding out, Minelli, Bosco, even the AG, and those are the very pillars of Lisbon's foundation, the men who stand behind the agency that defines her career, an entity that has defined who she is, and she has betrayed it in a way, for him.

Did _him_ a favor by risking her professional credibility and aiding in a side investigation that she was aware was in pursuit.

He can spin it any way he'd like, word it in any elaborate form, but he can't avoid the simple truth: Lisbon went out on a limb for him and he put her in the hospital and rendered God knows what consequences for her career.

Suddenly, he feels helpless.

It's an emotion so incredibly foreign to him, that he actually yearns for the numbness to return, secretly wishing his senses would slip back into oblivion.

He clutches the cross in his hand, eyes shut as he feels the imprint on his palm, worried for a moment that he might bend the precious metal. Still, he regroups, realizing why it reminds him so dearly of Lisbon, because it's just as solid, just as resilient.

She'll pull through as she always does.

His lip twitches upward ever so slightly at the thought, a tiny seed of warmth sprouting. However, it's not strong enough to fend off the guilt he feels, the burning shame that seems to have taken up permanent residence inside of him, spreading from within, pricking his every nerve and leaving him keenly aware of his surroundings now; the numbness completely worn off.

He still aches for it back; wishes cowardly for complete disconnect, because this feels so much worse. It's as if his mind has finally caught up, and is forcing him to acknowledge exactly what has happened, how quickly his world spun off its axis.

This has only happened to him once before. He can live with the dull ache of that memory, but this, God, this pain is so new, so fresh, digging its claws into him, scratching him, suffocating him. He feels every strain in his muscle now, every jolt of tightness in his belly, every pull on his heart.

There's a panic in his chest that's unfamiliar, spreading from within, rushing through him like a thousand electric shocks, pulsating all around him. He feels the pressure in his temples, the throb at the back of his neck. He wants to reach back, run his hand over the source of pain, but all he can do is clench his fist tighter around the necklace, trying to fend off nausea as it sweeps over him as he stares at the red stains on his legs.

An unexpected but gentle hand on his shoulder disturbs his catatonic state. Turning his head sharply to the side, he's not prepared for the sharp pain that rips through him.

Apparently he doesn't hide it well, because even in his perfectly stoic expression, Cho's eyes widen slightly as they connect with Jane's.

However, the Asian man doesn't say anything, his dark brown gaze communicating all the concern the agent feels, none of which Jane deserves.

"Let me guess, you wouldn't let anyone check you out." Cho's tone is as even as always and Jane's strangely comforted by it.

Still, it is only for a minute, until he feels the weight of reality, of unworthiness enveloping him, and he can't keep the self-pity out of his voice,

"Yeah, you know me."

He doesn't look at Cho, simply unclenches his palm and runs his thumb over the cross again, yearning desperately for the numbness to return, sweet paralysis.

There's a pause, as Cho doesn't say anything, but even in his haze, through the thumping in his head and the rush of blood through his body, Jane can sense when Cho's resolve weakens and he can almost predict what the man will say before he opens his mouth.

His reply ready as Cho begins, "Listen, Jane, I have-…"

Jane is certain he'll ask him to relay what happened, or warn him about something, his tone seems cautioning, but Cho's inquiry is cut short by another voice, a feminine and far more panicked one. Both men look up, Jane squinting against the bright florescent lights, to see Van Pelt almost sprinting towards him, calling his name.

His vision is a bit blurry, but there's no mistaking the fiery red hair or the taller, larger shadow that follows her, Rigsby hot on her heels as they cover the distance of the waiting room in a few long strides.

"We came as soon as we heard." Van Pelt announces, slightly out of breath as she sinks down onto the seat next to Jane.

All professional boundaries seem to disappear as she lays a gentle hand on his shoulder, but Jane doesn't look up from the floor. He does however feel Grace's eyes as they examine him. The slight tremor of her touch and sharp intake of breath remind him that despite being a cop, Grace is first and foremost a person with feelings, attachments, and a deep respect and honor for her boss. Thus, Jane expects that the sight of Lisbon's blood on his slacks would elicit some sort of reaction.

He clears his throat, as he feels the warmth of another person so close to him. Between Cho and Van Pelt, there's a certain level of comfort, of seclusion that doesn't make him feel claustrophobic or even embarrassed, just shameful because a sense of calm is slowly beginning to wash over him, a tranquility he has no right to feel.

He stands abruptly, walks to the opposite side of the hallway, leans against it as he looks over the three people who have become his makeshift family.

Family.

He marvels at the three people watching his every move, their eyes hooded with concern. Even a year ago, he never thought he'd have a family again. While they don't fit the conventional definition, Jane is stunned to discover that they have indeed filled that void within him. Still, as he scans their faces, he detects something else in their expressions, even Cho's.

Fear.

It only serves to remind him yet again, that an important member of their family, the glue that holds this unit together, is missing, injured, hurt, because of him.

He looks away, the urge to put his fist through the wall returning, as his grip on the necklace tightens and his jaw sets.

"Why are you guys here? Your flights are today."

The reaction to his snipe is instantaneous as Van Pelt frowns noticeably and Rigsby, in a rare show of annoyance, actually rolls his eyes.

"C'mon, Jane. It's Boss, there will be other flights."

He's taken aback by the taller man's response, but his guilt still drives him. He can't have these people around him, can't let himself rely on them, can't show them exactly how much it means to him that they're worried not only for Lisbon but also for him, because if he does, if he lets himself get too close, lets _them_ get too close, they'll get hurt.

Everyone around him does.

"Though that may be true," he continues. "Lisbon would probably not want to inconvenience you, seeing as neither of you were able to make it home for Thanksgiving."

His words are measured, exact, delivered with a nonchalance he's certain they are all used to. Jane hopes the coldness in his tone will put them off, leaving him to his misery, but it doesn't.

"Well it's a good thing she's not here to tell us to leave then,"

Van Pelt matches his steely gaze with one of her own, a defiance in her demeanor and sarcasm in her voice that he hasn't encountered before. On any other day, he'd be proud of her. He did tell her once that she's completely capable of being a bitch.

Her musing observation derails his train of thought for just a moment, but its' enough for Cho to give him a slightly skewed look, as if trying to warn him again and for Rigsby to cut in,

"Look, Jane. We just want to make sure she's okay."

Being the only one standing, Rigsby walks up to him, the tension drained from his face, and Jane feels a hint of defeat sink into him. The three sets of eyes trained on him display varying amounts of unease, but no pity. None of them are angry or indignant, which would be a much more appropriate and well-deserved reaction. For a second, his defenses buckle just a little, the wall that he's built slowly coming down, brick by brick. It terrifies him to be so vulnerable, but he at least owes them an explanation, and respect.

Apparently, he's more transparent than he'd like to be, because as soon as he contemplates letting his guard down, Van Pelt relaxes and stands up, walking up to him with a rueful smile,

"So we didn't really get all the details, can you tell us what happened?"

He meets her gaze, but something catches his attention from the corner of his eye, and the reply dies on his lips.

Two very familiar men are striding purposefully towards them and Jane instinctually returns his eyes to Cho. The smidgen of discomfort and sympathy that manages to penetrate through the man's usually impervious expression makes everything click in Jane's head.

It all makes sense now.

What Cho was trying to warn him about.

Despite the painful wrenching inside him, despite the blood stains on his pants, and despite the image of Lisbon lifeless and pale swirling in his mind, the mask is put back in place, immaculate, impenetrable, in the time it takes Minelli and Bosco to approach the Serious Crimes Unit.

Instinctively, he feels a sense of pride when he sees Cho stand up and Rigsby takes a step towards him as the two men approach. With Grace standing slightly behind him, together the three agents form a shield around their consultant, imperceptible to some, but one look at Bosco and its evident the man senses this.

Jane can't help the gratitude that wells up within him at their protection. He knows that he shouldn't feel the hint of smugness at the look on Bosco's face, but he allows himself this one tiny luxury, knowing he's about to bear the full brunt of the detective's ire.

XXX

One glance at the consultant and Minelli feels the grasp of an impending headache taking hold. He didn't want to believe it, didn't even want to entertain the thought that it actually happened, because that would mean his best (and favorite) agent has knowingly violated some pretty important rules regarding CBI protocol.

Its grounds for suspension, grounds for review, grounds for a whole slew of unpleasant things, starting with Sam Bosco demanding to know what happened as soon as Cho stepped into his office.

His ex-wife may be a horribly overbearing individual, but she was probably right about one thing: working on a Sunday never did anyone any good.

However, the headache moves to his heart as he takes in Jane's appearance. He knows the extent of Lisbon's injuries, is wholly relieved that she will be okay physically. He's just not prepared for the sight of the consultant trying so hard to conceal the shock and shame he feels.

The fact that Minelli can actually detect the traces of this on the younger man's face is testament to how poorly he's fairing. It also shows in how his eyes are constantly tracing over the blood stains on his clothes, and his hand periodically clenching and unclenching, something gold dangling from his grasp.

Jane doesn't look at him right away, preferring instead to engage in a staring contest with Bosco, but when his eyes do flicker over to Minelli, the realization hits him like a ton of bricks, and everything falls into place.

He realizes very quickly that Jane doesn't look like a worried colleague, the pure agony in the depth of his blue eyes, the pronounced creases around them, and the guilt coloring all his features are all indicative of something else entirely. He doesn't look like a concerned friend…he looks like a distraught…lover?

Oh, God, he should have retired when he had the chance.

His hand reaches up, instinctively pinching the bridge of his nose as the realization hovers over him like a cloud. He shouldn't be so surprised and when he really thinks about it, he isn't.

Perhaps he's just a little disappointed that this is the situation they all find themselves in and despite wanting to give Jane a stern reprimand, relieve some of the frustration that's been building inside, Minelli feels his resolve weaken, replaced by something he doesn't usually feel for the consultant.

Sympathy.

If his suspicions are correct, which would explain Bosco's insistence on tagging along, then he cannot imagine what Jane must feel at the moment.

Despite being flocked by Lisbon's team, replacing the armor he so valiantly parades on a daily basis, the trickster's inability to truly conceal how he feels only worries Minelli rather than annoys him. Therefore, even though he wants to yell, accuse them both of being incredibly stupid for doing this, the knowledge that Teresa will be okay pacifies his anger just enough for him to give into the fatherly instinct that tugs at him,

"Jane, go home, you look like crap," he offers by way of greeting. The few raised eyebrows he gets in response and the mild surprise on Jane's face reminds him that everyone was prepared for a tongue-lashing,

Then again, so was he.

Until he realized this situation had exceeded professional boundaries a long time ago. Besides, even in his silence, Sam seems ready to attack and he can almost feel how easily the control of the moment is bound to slip through his fingers.

Jane manages a wan smile and nods in appreciation, "Thanks, Virgil. Maybe later."

Neither one of them misses the sharp exhale and smirk from Bosco. Even now, the sight of the bald agent looking ready to explode amuses Jane, and he can tell Minelli shares his sentiment as the man gives him a side glance before averting his attention to the team.

"Is there any news?"

"No," Jane shakes his head, "Not yet. The paramedic said the wound was superficial but since she was unconscious, they gave her a mild sedative so she wouldn't wake up while they stitched her up."

Minelli nods. It's good enough for him. He mentally compiles a list of things to do, damage control, that sort of thing, and although the amount of work he'll probably have to take on in order to smooth this over only adds to his headache, he can't help but breathe another sigh of relief.

Teresa will be okay, and that's more important than the million other responsibilities now weighing heavily on him. He suddenly realizes that Lisbon makes his job a hell of a lot easier. It doesn't escape him that he is assuming her role as the cleaner in this situation, and even though he knows he'll have to at least suspend her, Jane too, for the moment he lets himself relax and takes a seat in a plastic chair not too far from the group.

Still, the tension doesn't ease, everyone watching him in silent expectation, everyone except Jane, whose gaze travels to the revolving doors behind him, no doubt hoping for any sign, any person to appear and tell him what's going on.

Minelli rests his head against the wall, eyes closing for a moment, seeking relief but it's short-lived.

"So that's it? That's all you're going to do?"

He opens his eyes to find Bosco's dark gaze boring into him, occasionally interspersed with side glances to Jane, who seems to slowly be regaining his composure, his real armor. It only serves to elevate his heart rate. He really doesn't need a pissing contest in the ER lobby, not now, not ever.

"Well, what would you like me to do, Sam?" He replies, tone dripping with sarcasm.

He's not particularly irritated by Sam's indignation, it's well deserved, but he doesn't like when his credibility is questioned, his methods placed under the microscope. No wonder Teresa's relationship with the agent is strained, the man questions anything that doesn't remotely appeal to him.

Bosco lets out a puff of air, hands falling to his hips as he paces for a moment. He looks over at the others, gazes momentarily at Jane, but then just shakes his head,

"It's unbelievable, you know. No disrespect, but seriously, you people have got some role confusion going on."

Though he doesn't appreciate Bosco's comment, Minelli doesn't respond, only continues to watch the normally composed and polite agent roam the short distance of the hall, like a caged tiger ready to pounce. If it weren't for the circumstance, he'd be amused, but he can't deny the feeling that whatever Bosco plans to say, despite it being driven by emotion, will probably ring truer than he'd like.

Minelli turns to his right, sees Rigsby and Cho surveying the bald agent's every move as he walks around, working himself into a frenzy. They look ready to draw their weapons at any second. Their stance reminds the older agent of old Westerns he used to watch with his dad.

Eventually, Bosco has enough of the silence and draws to a stop, eyes squinting at Jane as he purses his lips together beneath his mustache, hands still on his holster. Then he looks over at Minelli,

"Jane's not a freakin' victim here! It's his damn fault that Lisbon… that all of you are in this mess."

"Hey, wait a minute-…"

Rigsby tries to interject, but the soft touch on his shoulder halts him.

"Don't, obviously Agent Bosco has a bone to pick with me, let him."

Jane speaks directly to the taller agent, making sure to avoid eye contact with the man in question. He knows how much it irritates people, and irrationally, he wants to push Bosco's buttons; he just can't help himself.

Rigsby nods and steps aside, walking over to stand beside Grace, who looks equally alarmed and annoyed.

"Oh so now you're going to play the martyr, hmm? Self-sacrifice for the good of keeping the peace, let me tell you something that apparently no one else here is willing to."

Bosco takes a few steps toward him, but it doesn't intimidate Jane. Despite the dull ache in his head and the slight queasiness churning his stomach, the man is still very easy to read, the right buttons to push are quite evident.

"You intentionally took part in your own little investigation, knowing full well that you were about to question a possible witness in a pending case. I'm sure the consequences of that don't matter at all to you, but what should matter, what you should realize is that you're the reason we're all here right now. You're the reason Teresa is hurt."

Face to face now, Jane can practically feel the revulsion radiating off Bosco, but he isn't fazed.

"You don't think I know that?" Jane asks softly, calmly, almost _too_ calmly.

He knows what to say, can already predict Bosco's reaction, but instead of it giving him confidence, the nausea boils within him, his stomach twisting as the lights start to burn a little too bright all of the sudden.

His head is pulsating again, sending jolts of pain through his cranium, but he fights against it, trying to remain nonchalant.

"Do you?" Bosco snipes back, ready to launch at him again, "Really?"

"Yeah, I do." Jane snaps back, gauging the other man's stance. Bosco is poised for another barrage of accusations, understandably frustrated, but in all his anger, he's left himself vulnerable, exposing an open target, and Jane's never been one to back down from a clean shot.

"I am very well aware that Teresa is in the hospital, because of me. That yet again she has put herself in danger, because of my single-mindedness, but that's not really why you are so upset right now, is it?"

"Excuse me?" The older detective is momentarily stunned into silence, but then quickly his expression morphs to one of incredulity then amusement. A small smile stretches his goatee as he rolls his eyes, "Seriously, Jane. Don't try to pull that bull-…"

Jane interrupts him with a hearty, but very fake laugh, a move that only intensifies the throbbing in his skull, but he ignores it,

"Oh I see. So there's a double standard now? No, it doesn't work like that. I know what I did, I'm aware of my issues, but if you choose to point it out, don't expect me not to point out why you're pacing the hallway like some sort of chained lion. It's not the fact that Teresa is hurt that irks you so much. We both know she'll be alright. It's not that at all."

Jane turns the tables, walking Bosco back across the hall, his eyes burning with the possibility of an easy mark, enjoying a momentary release from his own guilt.

"You're just angry and bothered, because you can't figure out how she could have possibly been as stupid as she was. You're trying to justify her actions, trying to figure out how I managed to rope her into it, maybe I hypnotized her, maybe some blackmail?"

Bosco stands unmoving, absolutely still, the smirk gone, his fists clenched at his sides.

"Don't try to twist this around." The older man cautions, and this time it truly feels like a threat, but Jane is unmoved by it. His steely resolve mutes everything he's feeling inside, every stab of pain, every twirl of dizziness, the perspiration forming on his forehead.

"You just can't handle the fact that I simply asked her to come with me and she did. It makes you mad, mad and bitter that your precious Teresa went willingly with me, me of all people, the person who represents everything you so despise about not just the law but also people in general. The possibility that I did not somehow coerce her into it nauseates you, because the implication of that is too much to handle, isn't it Sam?"

Bosco's stunned expression and narrowed eyes confirms Jane's suspicions. He is a little surprised, however, that Bosco would be so shocked that Lisbon went with him. After all, once upon a time, she'd done the same for her mentor. Perhaps that's what bothers the detective the most, that he is no longer that individual in her life, replaced by someone who he does not think deserves it.

At least they can agree on that one fact.

It doesn't matter now though. He's high on the relief of venting his frustrations, of releasing all the pent-up anger borne of always needing to justify his and Lisbon's relationship.

After hearing about this, she'll probably have his head, but it will be a small price to pay for resetting the balance. Because if she's willing to chastise him for his amateurish attack on Bosco, then maybe she can forget the other reasons she should be so upset with him, so utterly disappointed.

All these thoughts run dizzyingly quickly through his mind while Bosco stands silently in front of him, tension palpable as his lips twitch beneath his mustache. Jane can't help but picture Bosco drawing his gun and putting a few into him if he could.

Jane wants to smile or look smug, but the queasiness is back, threatening to consume him completely, taking his legs out from under him.

His vision is a little fuzzy again and he regrets denying medical attention earlier. Yet it's only for a moment, because his eyes quickly turn to the revolving doors and he remembers that Teresa is far worse off than he is, and a little headache shouldn't be such a bother.

He'll just sit down for a second, and it will go away.

However, before he can find his way to a chair, sweet relief for his unsteady frame, a hand on his shoulder jerks him around, pressing him back against the wall.

It sends another wave of nausea through this system and this time when Bosco looks at him, even though he is only inches away, Jane can't make out the details of his face.

Jane blinks a few times, but his vision only grows more muddled, unclear. Panic starts to set in and instead of pushing Sam away, he tries to steady himself by leaning on Bosco's frame.

Whatever threat or insult the agent had planned doesn't come as Jane grips onto his shoulder,

"Hey Jane, you alright?" He asks, his voice seeming a million miles away to the consultant.

The pounding in his head intensifies as Jane tries to contain the bile that's slowly making its way up. His mouth feels dry and his limbs finally give out as he feels for the arm of the chair and slumps down onto it.

The temperature around him rises, as small beads of sweat trickle down his forehead. He feels them, but can't reach up to wipe them away, too tired. He desperately wants to close his eyes, give into the exhaustion, and slip into unconsciousness to make this pain go away.

Bosco continues to shake him, slapping his cheek lightly, trying to keep him alert, but Jane can't feel his anything anymore. The numbness he so desperately wanted earlier has finally taken over, paralyzing his limbs, though not staving off the ache.

He can barely move his head, but out of the corner of his eye, Jane sees Minelli shouting something at the nurse's station. Van Pelt kneels down beside him, hand on his shoulder as she says something to him, but it's indistinct, as if she's shouting from a distance. He gives her a small smile, wants to compliment her on her show of defiance earlier, but his tongue feels heavy.

He can't form the words.

Suddenly, he's being pulled away by someone, perhaps one of the nurses who were previously staring at him with sympathetic eyes, but he can't be sure. Whoever it is, is inches away from him, hands probing, asking him questions he can't answer because he can't hear. Voices fade into the background as he finally gives into the exhaustion, eyelids falling shut.

There's indistinct chatter around him, movement, someone's touching him, but the delicious numbness spreads through his body quicker than he expects and pretty soon he feels nothing.

He hears, tastes, smells nothing.

He's back to hours ago.

Back to the waiting room, back to watching the doors swing back and forth as he wonders if Teresa will be okay, but this time there's no panic, no anxiety, just warmth, stability.

He feels the imprint of her cross in his hand, and even though the actual necklace isn't in his grasp anymore, he doesn't panic, because he knows she'll be alright.

She'll be just fine.

And he will be too.

He just needs to rest his eyes for a little bit.

That's all.


	22. Part XXII: Unhealthy Delusions

**Running Through Red Lights**

Disclaimer: Don't own anything…Lyrics by Eve 6.

Rating: M

Spoiler: Red Badge, Black Gold and Red Blood.

A/N: Hi everyone! Terribly sorry for the delay in updates, but my trip was absolutely amazing and when I got back, school retaliated against me for taking an extra week off to travel. It was very mad at me and assigned a lot of stuff haha. Anyway, I am looking forward to thoughts on this chapter and would like to thank my beta, Heather, for being an amazingly diligent and meticulous editor. The best ever! I'm pretty sure the next update will be much quicker! Thanks for reading and reviewing!!

XXX

Part XXII: Unhealthy Delusions

"_I would swallow my doubt  
turn it inside out  
find nothing but faith in nothing…"_

XXX

"_God, how can you be so stupid? The guy had a knife on him, Jane, a knife. Did you not realize that?" _

_They're in the car, driving back from a crime scene, where her stubborn consultant decided he was impervious to the blade of an army knife and tried to talk down a disgruntled suspect high on meth from the ledge of the balcony, while said suspect held the knife to Jane's neck. _

_She's so angry, her knuckles are bone white from being wrapped around the wheel so tightly. She won't look at him, refuses to note his facial expression, which will no doubt be as nonchalant and infuriatingly arrogant as ever. _

_There's also the little problem that the depths of his eyes will draw her in until she's no longer upset, no longer indignant about his utter lack of self-preservation, and she can't have that, because he needs to learn his lesson, needs to understand that there are consequences, ramifications to his spontaneous and utterly ridiculous decisions. _

_They pull up to a red light and she relaxes for a moment, still staring straight ahead even though Jane hasn't said anything, which is unusual. However, her resolve won't let her turn and look at him. Besides, knowing Jane, he probably expects her to and is trying to lure her with his silence._

_She opens her mouth to give him another piece of her mind, when all of a sudden a very pale and cold hand wraps around her wrist. Something sinks in her stomach, tightening into a coil of fear, reminiscent of the emotion she tried to ignore when she saw the knife poised at Jane's neck earlier, and she slowly turns her head, afraid of what she will see. _

_Her breath hitches in her throat at the sight of her consultant, slumped against the window, breathing heavily as he clutches his thigh where a steady crimson stream is staining his dark gray slacks. _

_Jane's blood._

_Oh God. _

_Lisbon registers nothing beyond that. Something doesn't feel right, but she ignores it, concentrating on getting Jane to the hospital instead of wondering where the cut came from, why she hadn't seen it before, why Jane neglected to mention it. _

_She steps on the gas, even though the light is still red and wills the car to go forward but it doesn't. She checks the pedal again but it refuses to budge; slamming the wheel in frustration, she curses at the SUV for failing on her. _

_Tears blur her vision unexpectedly as her heartbeat escalates. The pounding in her head won't abate and suddenly, she doesn't feel good herself. However, even through the dizziness, she reacts quickly, _

"_Hold on, there's a first aid kit somewhere here and I'm going to call 911, everything will be okay." _

_Jane doesn't seem to hear her, so she leans over, unable to resist running her hand through his curls. His eyes meet hers then and a shiver runs through her, leaving her cold and helpless._

_He's already given up. _

"_There isn't enough time," he says quietly, but it resonates deep within her, words twisting around her heart like a snake, ready to squeeze the life out of her._

_She's so stunned by his reply that she doesn't realize he's opened the car door, until he's already halfway out. _

"_Jane, Patrick, where are you going?" _

_The desperation in her voice is unmistakable, but Jane doesn't react. Instead, he gets out of the car, wincing noticeably in pain, and shuts the door, pressing his hand against the glass. _

_He says something, but she can't hear him, and then he's walking away and she's calling for him, voice hoarse, body refusing to move. She's numb all over, limbs weighed down by an invisible force and all she can do is close her eyes and pray. _

_Tears slip from beneath her eyelids as fingers creep to her neck, desperate for some stability, for hope._

_But her neck is bare._

_And suddenly, her panic is amplified. _

_Where is her cross? _

_Her fingers search frantically, nails scratching across the pale skin of her throat. _

_She never takes the piece of jewelry off, not even when she's sleeping, because it's been with her through everything, a constant source of resilience and comfort, a protection that's unexplainable but very strong; something that makes her feel safe. _

_Now that feeling has disappeared along with her necklace and the ache in her chest threatens to consume her._

_She can't wrap her mind around what has just happened. The day started out normally enough and now she's in her stalled car, alone, no Jane, no cross, nothing to make her feel safe, nothing to make her keep moving forward._

_Her throat grows incredibly dry, as she realizes her hand is wet with blood, Jane's blood…_

_Oh, God. _

_Flashes of Jane smiling, Jane kissing her, Jane holding her morph into the lasting image of Jane hurt, Jane silently saying goodbye, his naturally vibrant eyes sunken, hollow, devoid of life. It cuts her deeply, makes her shake with unbidden sobs. Bitterness seeps in, numbing her again, until she can't feel a thing, not even her own fingers as she claws at her neck in hopes of finding that elusive strength that's kept her going all these years. _

_Her own voice seems miles away even as she calls for Jane again, though she knows he's too far away to hear her…_

XXX

As per the doctor's instructions, she's supposed to wake up on her own, but watching her thrash around like this, tears escaping past fluttering eyelashes as she whispers Jane's name is almost too much to bear, even for the normally composed and difficult to faze agent.

So after checking that no one is about to come in, Cho puts his latest novel down, and leans over his boss, hand lightly probing her shoulder.

The motion doesn't do much, except makes her jerk even more violently, and Cho fears she's going to rip her stitches so he decidedly gives her a rougher shake.

Though he's anticipating it, Lisbon's fingers wrapping around his wrist is somewhat of a shock, panicked eyes connecting with his as recognition fills her gaze.

He's never seen his boss look so disoriented, so emotionally overwhelmed, but her warm breath is grazing his knuckles, and he can feel the beat of her heart beneath his palm, and everything else seems almost irrelevant at this point, because she's alive. He's not going to deny that ever since Jane's call earlier that morning, he's needed the reassurance of seeing Lisbon awake to confirm she wasn't going anywhere.

So despite her worried gaze and Jane's name falling from her lips again, Cho manages a small smile and allows himself the rare pleasure of tucking a strand of hair behind Lisbon's ear, before replying to her anxious inquiry,

"Jane is okay. He's in another room though, being examined."

He doesn't miss the flash of fear and confusion that slowly morph into realization as Lisbon struggles to sit up.

She doesn't ask for an explanation, but Cho continues, understanding by the look in her eye what she needs to know but cannot ask yet.

"He suffered a severe concussion, which was only exacerbated by his resistance of medical attention."

He picks up a carafe by Lisbon's bed and pours her a cup of water. She takes it eagerly, draining it in a continuous sip while Cho contemplates whether or not to tell her about what brought on Jane's black out.

Lisbon clears her throat, coughs a little, and then sighs, "Figures. Stubborn man, is he going to be alright?"

She looks at him with an expression he's never seen before, large, emerald orbs filled with a vulnerability that makes the decision for him.

Some details are better kept concealed until later.

"Don't worry. He's a resilient bastard, we all know that."

He can't help the sense of triumph at the small smile that tugs at his boss's lips. She looks down, eyes undoubtedly connecting with the large gauze wrapped around her thigh.

They managed to stop the bleeding long enough to assess the damage, which turned out to be far less than anticipated. Even so, after stitching her up and doing an x-ray, they put her on a course of antibiotics, just to avoid infection.

Cho wants to tell her this, explain that everything will be fine, that she's incredibly lucky that the drugged up bastard missed all the vital areas and that Jane, barring a few weeks of discomfort and forced bed rest, will be okay. But the way her shoulders immediately slouch as she stares at her leg, realization of the last day's events invariably washing over her, makes him sit in silence beside her, realizing that any words of comfort have no place at the moment.

"So, I'm assuming since you're here, everyone else knows?"

He really shouldn't be surprised that despite the injury she's suffered and learning of Jane's concussion, that Lisbon's mind would still be on business.

He can't begrudge her this, however, realizing that under these circumstances, where she must feel so helpless, it would help her to focus on work, figure out what her next step will be. She's obviously thought about the repercussions and what-ifs, if her look of determination is any indication.

He's about to open his mouth to concur, maybe give her a little heads up. He thinks it might be a good idea to warn her that Bosco is somewhere in the vicinity, fuming with equal parts guilt and annoyance over exacerbating Jane's condition and really over the whole messed up situation. He's about to fill her in when, he suddenly hears the aforementioned detective's voice as it filters through the curtain separating Lisbon's bed from the other occupant of the room, and his eyes immediately fall on Lisbon, who suddenly looks beyond panicked and anxious.

Though outwardly she remains calm, Lisbon's eyes go wide with fear and perhaps a hint of humiliation. However, Cho's never once questioned Lisbon's credibility, nor questioned her competence in the wake of this mess. Briefly, he wonders if he's blinded by his loyalty to his boss but as the last few years being her second in command flash through his mind, he shakes away his doubt, knowing his judgment is sound.

No, Lisbon is the most capable, level headed, and astute agent he knows. He's sure that once Jane had found out about Evans, there was no stopping him. Cho only wonders why Lisbon never brought a weapon with her, or her badge.

He'll have to ask her about it later.

"Cho?"

The hint of panic in Lisbon's voice breaks his reverie. Shooting his gaze to the door, Cho gently instructs her to close her eyes as he edges the curtain back into place. He's back in his chair, novel splayed haphazardly in his lap seconds before Bosco pokes his head in.

His gaze drifts to Lisbon for a second, glazing over in brief reverence before narrowing his gray eyes at Cho again.

"I thought Teresa was awake." He states with an edge to his voice that, if Cho didn't know any better would make him think he was being interrogated.

Well, he doesn't take well to being questioned, so the lie rolls easily off his tongue.

"No, she's sleeping," The Asian man responds without so much as a glance back at the detective, who is getting more irritated by each minute of no eye contact.

"Thought I heard you talking to someone," Bosco continues, having the audacity to wrap his arms across his beefy chest, tone almost accusatory not that Cho blames him, considering he's right.

"Unlikely. I don't read out loud and I doubt even in her sleep, boss would find what I'm reading at all interesting," he replies nonchalantly, expression unmoving as Bosco narrows his eyes at him even further. Cho finally meets his gaze, silently challenging the detective to probe some more. Eventually, Bosco nods and turns to retreat, asking Cho to let him know when Lisbon does wake up. He nods in return; turning back to his novel. However, at the last second, he changes his mind, calling after Bosco,

"Any word on Jane?"

The detective stills, shoulders tensing up just slightly. Cho counts his blessings when Bosco doesn't turn around, because upon hearing of Jane, Lisbon's body trembles ever so slightly.

"His CT scan came back clean. No sign of a subdural hematoma but they want to keep him overnight just in case. He does have a severe concussion so he can't be asleep for more than two hours at a time. I'm sure you can imagine the fun his nurses are having. I think he's managed to scare off two since he's been awake."

Despite his innate stoicism, Cho can't help the hint of a smile at the thought of the consultant wreaking havoc from his hospital bed. One quick look at Lisbon tells him she's more relaxed now than she was moments ago. Her lashes flutter imperceptibly against her cheeks and he knows she's contemplating waking up.

"Yeah, I can imagine." Cho smirks and Bosco finally eases up a little.

His eyes flicker over to Lisbon again but his gaze doesn't linger, instead he sighs and draws his attention back to Cho.

"They'll probably discharge her as soon as she wakes up if she passes a few neurological tests, so let me know when she does."

When Bosco finally slips out of the room, Cho releases all his tension in a steady stream of air and immediately pulls his chair up closer to Lisbon's bed, touching her arm softly as her eyes flutter open.

Blinking as her vision comes back into focus, she turns to her second in command with a soft smile.

"Thanks, Cho."

"No problem, I'm glad you're okay," he admits in a moment of rare emotion and the compassion in his dark eyes forms a knot in Lisbon's throat. Unwelcome tears burn beneath her eyelids as if his words have unlocked the place where she's kept everything hidden, reality suddenly engulfing her, making it almost a little too hard to breathe.

Cho notices the change in her demeanor right away and can't help the little bubble of panic that rises in his throat. He doesn't really know how to handle these situations, but especially where Lisbon is concerned he's extremely out of practice, so used to her always being in control.

However, be it his luck or her unfortunate circumstance, his need to comfort his boss becomes moot when the curtain is roughly pulled back and they both look up to find their superior gazing back at them.

Lisbon tries to hide her surprise at seeing Minelli, but invariably fails, as his appearance reminds her once again where she is and what she is doing here. Her relief over knowing that Jane is relatively okay is overpowered by a deep feeling of shame as she tracks the disappointment in her superior's eye.

She's not surprised by Minelli's reaction, but it hurts all the same. She bites her lip uncharacteristically, pulling the chapped flesh between her teeth, if for nothing else than to feel something other than the tight knots in her stomach.

"Don't worry. I sent Sam on a coffee run."

Lisbon's not sure whether she should thank him or be even more ashamed that Minelli knows about her little deception.

"It was my decision, sir. I thought Boss needed some-…"

Cho tries to speak up, but Minelli cuts him off with a raised hand reflecting exactly how he feels about the situation. The dryness in her throat returns and no about of water will be able to get rid of it this time.

"Cho, give us a few minutes, okay?"

The older man finally turns to the other agent, his tone almost apologetic, almost. Yet, Cho holds no grudge. He simply nods and exists the room, but not before shooting Lisbon an encouraging half smile, something that despite her current circumstance warms the detective's heart, reminding her that even if her superior is about to give her a stern and much deserved reprimand (or worse), her team is still fully behind her.

That knowledge gives her a little strength, at least enough to look Minelli in the eye as he gears up to launch into his tirade. She bites the inside of her cheek, preparing herself for the tongue-lashing that she knows is justified. However, her boss catches her off guard by leaning against the window, pushing back the curtain to peer into the street, and heaving a deep sigh.

"Why didn't you bring your gun with you? Why didn't you even run a background check on this guy before going unarmed to his residence? How could you be so stupid and careless? This is not how I run my unit, Teresa. This is not what I trained you to do when you first joined the CBI. What happened?"

He finally returns his gaze to her and the hint of desperation in his voice paired with the concern marring his blue eyes is no match for Lisbon's emotional control. She blinks back tears as she stares mutely at the older man, fighting fiercely against disappointment welling within herself. The fact that Minelli's reprimand feels more like that of a father than a boss doesn't help matters.

Clearing her throat, she stares down at her hands as they twist nervously in her lap. "I just didn't want the CBI to be involved in any way, in case things did go wrong."

Although it really was her impetus for going to see Evans unarmed and she let Jane know as much when she consented to it; now the idea sounds ridiculous coming out of her mouth.

"The CBI is always involved, Teresa," he replies patiently. "Anything to do with Red John means the CBI is involved, especially when there's a mess to clean up. I thought you knew that better than anyone."

"I did,"

Her response is mechanical. She doesn't know what else to say. Despite her perpetual role as damage controller, especially where Jane is concerned, Lisbon suddenly can't justify her actions, can't for the life of her understand how she ever thought it would be possible that this was going to be simple. She hadn't thought beyond the conversation with Evans, but even if they had been successful and the kid did have knowledge of Red John's identity, at what point would she inform the CBI? They would have had to be notified eventually. Even if Jane resisted, she would have had to go to Bosco sooner or later.

She was certain that it would have destroyed her relationship with Jane and the knowledge that that could have possibly played a role in her decision sends a powerful wave of nausea crashing through her system. Desperately, Lisbon grabs the cup of water of the table, draining it greedily in the hopes of forcing the wave back down.

All the ire and frustration that had been building within Minelli since he'd received word of this mess disintegrates into dust at the first sign of Lisbon struggling. Slowly, he makes his way to the bed, gingerly perching himself on the edge as he takes her cup and refills it.

She watches him over the rim of the cup, her eyes a mixture of confusion and apprehension at the change in his demeanor. Minelli really can't blame her. He can't make up his mind about which role to play here.

He knows he needs to be the boss, make the difficult decisions, and he's already made up his mind on that issue. However, he should've known it would be impossible to remain cold and detached in the face of Lisbon injured and scared, staring up at him from her hospital bed. She seems to read the expression on his face, understanding his misgivings and ambivalence as he pinches the bridge of his nose in exasperation and exhales carefully.

Minelli's so lost in his thoughts he almost doesn't hear her soft apology but it echoes in the room, drawing his eyes back to his detective.

Her eyes are set within dark circles and their usual green vibrancy is missing. The fire he sees in her, what assured him when he first met her that she would make a superb team leader, seems to have been extinguished and this saps the last bit of anger out of him, replacing it with concern which she probably doesn't deserve at the moment.

"Don't be sorry. It already happened," he replies and Lisbon casts her glance down, nodding stoically, mouth opening and closing as she realizes there isn't much she can say in her defense.

Instead, she continues to study her lap, eyes darting every once in a while to her injured thigh. She can't feel it at the moment due to the copious amounts of painkillers being pumped into her system. For now, she's numb to the pain, but much like her situation, she knows she'll feel the ramifications, both physical and psychological, soon enough and reality won't be as easy to ignore then.

The drugs leave her lethargic, fighting to stay alert as Minelli speaks, wishing fruitlessly that she never put him in this situation. She sees the worry lines etched on his forehead and the way he oscillates between reprimanding her and fretting over her condition.

"You know that you and Jane are both suspended effective immediately?"

It's not really a question, but the regret in Minelli's voice only manages to seize her heart even more. Still, resigned to her fate, Lisbon nods mutely, finding a sudden interest in her fingernails.

Her boss exhales deeply. "I mean it, Teresa. I don't want to see either you or him in the office for at least two weeks after the holidays, until the storm has settled. I don't want you making excuses to come back in and make sure Jane doesn't either."

Despite the realization that she will likely be cooped up in her apartment for fourteen days without much else to do but ruminate on the idiocy of her actions and making sure Jane doesn't lose his mind from having nothing to do as well, she feels a little restored when Minelli asks her to keep Jane in line.

Even if it's superficial, she's glad to know that she is still trusted with some responsibility and following orders leaves her with some sense of normalcy. However, the punishment doesn't seem to fit the crime and of its own accord, her gaze seeking, she slips her hand to Minelli's shoulder and gives it a light squeeze.

He seems a little stunned by the physical contact, but his expression softens considerably as his blue eyes settle on her and she finds the courage to speak,

"I understand the suspension, but I don't want you to take responsibility for something I did. I'm a grown woman, I knew the consequences going in, and I should face them now."

"No, what I think you should face is the reason why you did what you did."

Her eyes grow wide at his words, the blunt reply sinking deep into her bones, leaving her cold and defenseless, forcing her to confront what she has been trying to ignore all along.

"You need to remember that you weren't in this alone."

She meets his gaze then as he rises to stand at the foot of the bed. The knowing look in his eye makes her blood run cold. She doesn't want to acknowledge it, doesn't want to even think about it, but she can't escape his look and she realizes that he knows.

"It's not against the rules because he's on retainer and not a full fledged employee, but I hope to god that didn't cloud your judgment in this case." He continues when she can't seem to find any words, "I'll give you the benefit of the doubt, Teresa, just because I know Jane and he probably would have gone along and done it anyway, but do not put me in this position again. Are we clear?"

For a second, she's mortified as the implication of Minelli's words settles in, but she doesn't break his gaze and forces her feelings down as deep as she can.

"Yes, sir. It won't happen again."

He nods in return, and a heavy silence falls over them. She's sure he doesn't believe her and she really can't blame him. She's never let it get this far before, but it's not like her credibility hasn't been questioned by everyone else. She just always assumed Minelli was the exception and the coil around her heart only tightens at the realization that he may not be that anymore and there's no one to blame but herself.

Perhaps having noticed her inner turmoil, Minelli draws her attention back by clearing his throat and catching her glance,

"Taking some time off might do you some good."

He stands silently by her bedside for a few more minutes, eyes darting every so often to her injury, until Lisbon can't take it anymore. It's not his uncontrollable outward display of concern that gets her; it's that she feels she doesn't deserve it after dragging him into this mess.

"Virgil," she says softly, peering up at him through hooded lashes, "You don't have to watch over me. I'll be fine."

His surprise only lasts for a moment before he manages to regroup. "I know that. Just take it from someone who's been there and don't try to play hero and refuse pain meds. Trust me; they'll be your new best friend for a while."

Lisbon can't help the small laugh that escapes her throat or the smile that forms on her lips at Minelli's words, and she nods, bangs falling over her forehead, "I won't. I think I've had enough playing hero already."

The words slip out before she can stop them but before they can kill the lightheartedness of the moment, Minelli manages to smile back, holding her gaze for a while longer.

"I'll go get the nurse then so we can get you out of here."

Lisbon nods in agreement and bites back her desire to apologize again as her superior disappears behind the curtain, only to be replaced by Cho who looks uncharacteristically concerned as he steps back into the room.

"Everything okay, boss?"

She smiles as warmly as possible at her colleague, "Yeah, nothing I didn't expect. Don't worry about it."

Cho remains stoic as ever and returns to the empty chair by her bed and sits down, prepared to open his novel again and continue reading. At first, Lisbon is okay with his company, preferring not to wait for the nurses and the doctor alone, but the sound of Christmas jingles somewhere down the hall reminds her what day it is and she no longer wants him to stay.

"Cho,"

The Asian man looks up from his novel, his expression immovable and she almost can't handle his nonchalance. His loyalty in the face of the last few hours, hell the last few years baffles her sometimes.

"Can you do me a favor?"

He stares back expectantly and Lisbon can't help smiling as he looks at her attentively with his usual stoic expression.

"Go home and spend Christmas Eve with your family."

If t Cho could ever look surprised, it would be now as he shuts the novel and gazes at her pointedly, "No. I'm good. April is with her folks and my mom is with my aunts. It's fine."

"No, it's not," Lisbon exhales, wishing for once he'd disagree with her. "First of all, it's not fine that you're sacrificing time with your family for me and second of all, I'm fine. As soon as they discharge me, I'm going up to Jane's room, so you don't have to worry about me. I'll have my hands full with Mr. I Hate Hospitals."

Despite the smirk that penetrates his calm façade, Cho still doesn't seem convinced and Lisbon lets out a sigh before propping herself up and reaching out for his hand, "I'm grateful for everything you've done for me, but you've done enough. Besides, you need to keep your strength up considering you'll be running the unit for two weeks after vacation."

Cho blinks, opens his mouth to say something, but Lisbon cuts him off, "Minelli suspended Jane and myself after the holidays. It's officially two weeks but could be longer depending on how intensely the AG gets involved."

She thought it would be painful to repeat those words, to finally accept the reality of her situation, but surprisingly, the explanation rolls easily off her tongue, as if this suspension, this punishment isn't happening to her, but to someone else.

Cho's eyebrows migrate to his hairline, but soon his features relax and Lisbon looks away. Not strong enough to dwell on the situation any longer.

"I'm sorry, boss."

"It's fine," she says quickly, finding it annoying that this particular word keeps popping up. She's never believed anyone who's told her they are 'fine' and now she's being a hypocrite.

Cho is once again skeptical but doesn't say anything, instead chooses to remain silent and strong by her side and Lisbon is forever thankful to have him as her second in command.

Lisbon wants to thank him, communicate to him how grateful she truly is for his unquestionable loyalty but the words die on her lips. Somehow, a generic thank you doesn't seem like enough, so she remains quiet, closing her eyes to catch a moment of respite before the storm of nurses and doctors begin to probe and examine her before hopefully releasing her.

She tries to block out the beeping of the machines and the cheesy Christmas music in the distance. Instead, she imagines she's back on her porch drinking spiked coffee with a smiling Jane telling her this is the happiest he's been in years.

She holds onto the memory as long as she can, letting it wash over her in hopes that it will fill her with calm, warmth, everything that has eluded her since she woke up. Letting her thoughts stray will burst the bubble of hope she's built that everything will be alright.

And Lisbon quite prefers to entertain that delusion for as long as she possibly can.


	23. Part XXIII: Soul To Squeeze

**Running Through Red Lights**

Disclaimer: Don't own anything…lyrics by Matchbox 20, title borrowed (stolen) from Red Hot Chili Peppers.

Rating: M

Spoiler: Red Badge, Black Gold and Red Blood.

A/N: Hey everyone! Thank you SO much for all your reviews on the last chapter, I really appreciate it. Thank you to Heather once again for betaing. You are wonderful to me and to this story. I am participating in the Jello-Forever Summer Secret Santa Challenge, but I have almost completed the final two chapters of this story, so I anticipate that it will be done by the end of May, if not before. Thank you guys once again and I hope you enjoy it!

XXX

Part XXIII: Soul To Squeeze

"_Here we go again  
Ashamed of being broken in.  
We're getting off track,  
I want to get you back again…"_

XXX

He wakes up to the familiar aroma of cinnamon and apples. The room is dark and his vision is still a little blurry, a side affect of the concussion. For a moment, Jane can convince himself that he's just lying in bed with Lisbon in his arms, unable to sleep as usual, but finding a certain comfort in her curled into his side, hair tickling his neck.

But then she shifts in her sleep, left leg stiffening as she stretches it over his hips and the last day's events rush through his mind like a kaleidoscope of broken images, bringing back the guilt and shame he felt before he blacked out. At least the pain in his head isn't as sharp and he now knows the source of it.

He's no stranger to concussions, but this one must be extremely severe given that he can't focus his eyes for more than a few minutes at a time without feeling strained. He blinks several times, rubbing his eyelids gently before trying to right his vision again.

The room is dark, the curtain drawn back allowing moonlight to filter in through the window, casting a glow on his surroundings. There's barely any furniture, the walls are gray, and a strong stench of antiseptic hangs in the air.

He really hates hospitals.

It's supposed to be a healing environment, but to him it's always felt more like a prison. Hospitals are one of the only places where he is divested of all his defenses, stripped of his suit, his mobility (at the moment), and most of all his voice. It didn't matter how much he complained or not so subtly insulted every single nurse of his, no one budged. No one would dare to discharge a patient in his condition, not even someone as disagreeable as him. That doesn't mean he has to like it though.

He takes a deep breath, and the familiar scent of Lisbon's shampoo awakens his senses again. He has to smile, has to tighten his subconscious hold on her, even if it pulls at the IV in his arm. He doesn't know at what point she snuck into his room, but he's so incredibly grateful for her presence that he doesn't care. Although he just saw her this morning, it feels like they've been reunited after a long separation and the painful twisting in his chest, the one reminding him how incredibly lucky he is that she's still by his side only grows, along with a healthy dose of gratitude.

His hand unconsciously buries itself in her auburn waves and he leans down to press his lips to her forehead, unable to resist the smoothness of her skin. He breathes a sigh of relief when Lisbon doesn't move, a sign that he didn't wake her up with his spontaneous show of affection.

He relaxes against the pillows, content to hold her for as long as possible, feeling her breathing peacefully besides him, her warmth extending a bubble of comfort over him. However, within moments he feels, rather than sees, her wake up as her eyelashes flutter open, brushing against the exposed skin of his neck.

Jane doesn't realize just how close they are to one another until Lisbon lifts her head just slightly and her breath ghosts across his cheek. She looks at him through half lidded eyes until the cobwebs of sleep clear away. Then the slew of emotions that pass over her gaze in succession brings the overwhelming feeling of dread and uncertainty he's done an amazing job suppressing back with a vengeance.

He doesn't dare look away, paying his penance just by having to witness the amount of pure, untainted hurt in her eye. He knows Lisbon, knows how guarded she is, how it took four years and a display of unwavering loyalty to slip past her defenses enough for her to open her heart to him. So letting him _see_ just how hurt she is, is almost more painful than any physical injury he's ever sustained, especially not this concussion.

Lisbon doesn't break their gaze either, though only because she can't get enough of the sight in front of her. It's a little ridiculous, but the overwhelming relief spreading like anesthetic through her body seems to numb everything, including the dull throbbing from her wound.

She's known that he's okay, that he will be just fine, but to see him awake, warm, strong, and, at the moment, looking incredibly guilty and embarrassed as he stares at her is enough to melt some of the ice that seems to have frozen her heart when she woke up in the hospital, mad as hell at herself and Jane for this stupid mess they are in.

She reacts impulsively, pressing her lips to his, guided by the ache in her heart at the thought that this day could've ended much worse than it had. She silently thanks God that it didn't, because as stupid and selfish and single minded as Jane is, she'd rather have him alive and all those things than the alternative.

Bemused, Jane doesn't respond immediately. When he finally does, Lisbon pulls back, breathing heavily and realizing that the relief she felt just moments ago was only temporary.

Because now, as she really looks at him, she sees everything else besides him too, like the fact that he's in a hospital gown and that they're in a hospital room and that she can't really move too much now that the pain medication is wearing off.

Lisbon realizes then that as much as she's glad that Jane will be okay, they still need to talk. His brows furrow in confusion as she pulls away slightly, hurt crossing his features momentarily, but he doesn't stop her, probably realizing she needs some space. Lisbon grants him a small smile before sitting up and perching herself on the edge of his bed, a far cry from the intimate position they were in just moments before.

She doesn't even remember how she'd slipped into bed with him or why the nurses didn't stop her, but she knows she misses the warmth of his body beside her, misses the small flutter in her chest at the realization that his hand had found its way around her waist even in his sleep.

Her thigh throbs as she sits up, but the pain is nothing compared to the pressure she feels inside at Jane's reaction to her pulling away. He doesn't hide how he feels from her, exposing all the guilt, shame, and regret in his cobalt gaze, but this uncharacteristic openness doesn't make Lisbon feel better.

If anything, it only tightens the coil around her heart, only adds to the dryness in her throat as she clutches some of the comforter in her hands. For a second, as they keep staring at each other silently, Lisbon wants to stomp her feet like a child, cry out all the anger and frustration she feels, and curl up into a ball in Jane's arms, to hell with the rest of the world.

She wishes for just a moment that things weren't so difficult between them, wondering why they can't just be like everyone else, why there has to be so much against them. She wants to be childish for a moment, doesn't want to be composed or strong, but wants to be weak, craves the feeling of vulnerability, because it's just too damn hard to be so controlled all the freaking time.

Especially now, as she stares into the face of the man she loves and realizes that as unfair as it is, as horrible a hand as life has dealt him in the last couple years, he needs to accept some sort of responsibility for his actions, has to see that there are consequences. Lisbon can't help but take a little self righteous comfort in Minelli's earlier words.

"_I know Jane and he probably would have gone along and done it anyway…"_

It doesn't lessen the weight of responsibility from her shoulders but it gives her a small sense of confidence, just the push that she needs to clear the vulnerability from her eyes and break the silence.

Jane senses the change in her before it even happens. She shifts just a little further away, spine straightening and shoulders set as she gears up to get everything off her mind. He can't quite stave off the wave of nausea that bubbles up at the thought that this might be the moment they finally break, the moment she finally admits that she can't deal with 'them' anymore.

He tries to swallow down the anxiety, but it doesn't really work. He knows that he's not doing such a good job concealing his reaction, because Lisbon's eyes flash with concern, only amplifying the guilt he's feeling.

"I'm glad you're okay," she whispers, voice very soft but controlled, and Jane can't help the disappointment as she visibly closes off from him.

"Don't worry about me. How are you doing?"

She expects herself to be put off by his zealous concern, but his inquiry is so genuine that Jane almost derails her train of thought, especially when he reaches out his hand, placing it gently on her wrist, thumb brushing over her skin soothingly.

She's surprised at how easily it relaxes her, making her lose her rigid posture as she gives him a wan but appreciative smile, "I'm fine."

It's obvious he doesn't believe her. He even manages to roll his eyes a little, but Lisbon stops him before he can put off the inevitable for any longer. She doesn't miss the flash of hurt in his eyes as she wriggles her hand from beneath his, placing it gingerly in her lap as she looks down, eyes momentarily drawn to her thigh. The thickness of the bandage wrapped around her leg is still noticeably protruding beneath the baggie hospital scrubs.

"You and I are both suspended effective immediately after the holidays. Two weeks, but could be longer, depending on the fallout from this."

Lisbon stares straight ahead, keeping her attention on the moon, the crescent sliver of white against the starless, dark blue backdrop of the sky. It's somehow both beautiful and lonely in the vast emptiness surrounding it, but Lisbon refuses to dwell on it, trying to keep focus on where it needs to be.

"I figured as much. I'm actually surprised Minelli didn't fire me altogether."

"He knows about us."

She's not sure why she says this, it wasn't exactly part of the conversation she'd outlined in her head, but a part of her really wants to throw Jane off, surprise him somehow. She figured this would have the desired effect, but she apparently guessed wrong.

"Yeah," Jane concurs, and when Lisbon whips her head around to look at him, trying to gauge his reaction, he tries very hard to feign surprise. He knew from the minute that Minelli walked into the hospital with Bosco hot on his tail that their supervisor would find out about their relationship by the end of the day.

It was inevitable.

"It's not against the rules, you know."

She surprised him with her humorless laugh. The irony doesn't escape her and she tells him so, eyes dangerously darker when she looks at him again. "It's funny that you should be the one to mention rules, Jane."

He knows that he deserves every bit of the tongue lashing she's about to give him, but he just can't keep his mouth shut.

"What's that supposed to mean exactly?"

She only narrows her eyes in response, lips pursed in a thin line, as she continues to glare at him, unwavering resolve in place. "I hope you know I am in no way blaming you for what happened."

Jane doesn't say anything, biting his tongue this time before it gets him into trouble. His initial indignation at her words fades as he takes in her appearance, takes in their surroundings, checks himself again, remembering what drove them to be here, both injured and undoubtedly exhausted. He realizes very quickly once again that as much as Lisbon doesn't blame him for what happened, he does.

He wants to say something, yearns to seek her forgiveness, ignoring how quickly his stubborn resolve has weakened in her presence, but he wisely remains silent, knowing that the most he can give her now is his undivided attention.

"Whether you think it's your fault or not, I take full responsibility for walking into this situation unarmed and unprotected. It was stupid not to take my gun with me. It was even more foolish for me to think the CBI wouldn't get involved. You and I both know we would've needed the unit's help on this eventually."

Lisbon pauses, shifting a little to the side so she can look at him properly. It's a staged interruption in her speech, allowing her to see if Jane will say anything; he doesn't.

Not because he doesn't want to, but frankly, he's at a loss for words. For the first time, he lets himself contemplate something beyond the actual meeting with Evans, a hindsight he hadn't allowed himself before. He'd been too afraid of confronting the very same fact Lisbon has just pointed out.

"Still I'm really sorry it didn't work out quite the way you wanted it to, but I feel like maybe this is a sign, a warning."

Her voice cracks just a little and she curses her inability to remain as composed as she'd like. It's even worse when Jane catches the faltering in her tone and rises slightly off the pillows, seeking out her hand. She doesn't pull away from him this time, but she doesn't look at him either, afraid that his eyes will hypnotize her again with their bottomless depths and she'll forget everything except Jane and the fact that he's okay.

Jane instinctively reaches for her, trying not to panic or jump to conclusions, though his mind is racing now. His judgment is clouded so heavily he can't guess what she's referring to even if he tries.

"A warning for what?" He asks in an uncharacteristically quiet and worried tone. It's enough that Lisbon looks at him in alarm, just to make sure he's okay physically, before casting her eyes down at their entwined hands.

She doesn't pull away, instead laces her fingers through his, reveling in his touch if only for a moment, before expelling a sigh.

"I know you're not one to follow rules. Hell, I'm pretty sure you think the only reason they exist is to break them. Believe it or not, that doesn't really bother me at work. By now, I expect that you'll bend or break whatever boundaries I hope to set out for you. I've always known that about you and I accept that. But, this whole incident, it just proves that we can't have the same situation outside of work."

He feels like a broken record, only plying her for more information, but the inquiry escapes before he can organize his thoughts.

"What are you saying, Lisbon?"

She still refuses to meet his gaze, taking a steadying breath as if she's convincing herself that this really is the right thing to do. After a few more moments of mulling it over, she knows there's no other way to do this.

"When you came to me with Rosalind's information, you were only doing what I had asked you to do earlier. And you were right, I did want you to not keep anything from me, I wanted us to be honest and open and as truthful with each other as possible. Now I think I was naïve to think that we could be honest about everything, especially Red John, without it interfering."

Jane doesn't interrupt her this time. He rises a little higher against the uncomfortable pillows and squeezes her hand in reassurance as she pauses for a moment. He's momentarily captivated by her silhouette in the dim moonlight. He commits to memory the outline of her slightly pointed nose, the curvature of her chin, the swell of her breast and her slender waist as she tries not to slouch. He finds a million different ways to distract himself just by looking at her, but it doesn't lessen the tightening feeling of anxiety deep in his gut, as he waits for her to speak.

Lisbon heaves a sigh laden with the weight of too many things.

"I guess what I'm trying to say is that the only way I think we can ever truly work is if we actually set real rules, real boundaries in our personal relationship."

She finally looks at him out of the corner of her eye, trying to conceal her uncertainty. It's such a Lisbon thing to do that Jane doesn't even realize he's pulling her closer to him until they're sitting almost face to face. He can't help the small smile that spreads over his lips nor resist running a hand through her hair. The relief he feels in every fiber of his being guides his unconscious actions.

He was so sure that Lisbon was going to end it. He could almost picture the phrase as it tumbled out of her mouth, her guilt-ridden eyes full of resolve. He's been ready for it, ready for the proverbial punch to his gut that her actual words don't fully sink in. It takes him a full minute to discern that she hasn't broken up with him, that she hasn't decided that his obsession is just too much. The gratitude that washes over him is overwhelming, but he bites back his response, knowing that Lisbon has more to say.

"This can't be like it is at work. The rules have to mean something. When you break the rules at work, the worst you do is betray my professional trust. But when it's just the two of us, you're betraying me-"

Her voice falters slightly, almost imperceptibly towards the end, but Jane hears it, feels it in the way her hand trembles in their embrace and his heart clenches as he finally absorbs her words.

Although her lack of trust in him is a little disappointing, he can't blame her for doubting his ability to respect boundaries in their personal relationship, regardless of what they are. He so badly wants to rebuke her, tell her that he understands how important what they have is, how easily breakable it is, but he can't formulate the words. The lines he has carefully crafted in his mind can't push through the wall in his throat and all he can do is stare at her, wishing he could find his voice again, his sense of persuasion, his ultimate weapon.

It scares him that with a few well-chosen words, Lisbon manages to disable his arsenal completely, and to Jane, it's a little ironic that she's so terrified of leaving herself exposed to him when it's he who is truly at her mercy now.

Lisbon seems completely oblivious to his reaction as she tries to blink back the tears that threaten to escape. It petrifies her that she's so emotionally exhausted, so on the brink of letting go, at a time like this. For a second, she wonders if maybe it was a terrible idea to do this now, to give Jane an ultimatum when neither of them is at their physical best. However, as she feels herself being drawn into his troubled gaze, she realizes it's better to do it now than later, when he can pull her in again and unwittingly hypnotize her.

She doesn't want to be left vulnerable like she has been for the last few months. She needs a balance in her life, some structure. She wants to know that the next thing to throw a wrench in their lives could be dealt with in some other way, not ending with heartbreak or injury or a bitter argument between them.

And as much as she wants to lose herself in the comfort of Jane's arms, reveling in the tranquility they will surely bring, Lisbon knows if they don't figure this out now, the foundation they've worked so hard to build will crumble to nothing again.

"I know this might be hard, but I think we need to separate our work from our personal relationship. The only way I can see to make this work, to move past this, is to make sure this kind of situation doesn't happen again."

Lisbon glances down at her lap, admiring the way their hands fit so perfectly together. She wonders why Jane doesn't say anything, but a part of her is too afraid to look at him again, so she keeps her gaze down, preferring to imagine his expression rather than confronting the reality of it.

She knows he doesn't respond well to ultimatums, not even ones masked by suggestion, so she swallows hard against the dryness in her throat as she plows ahead before he can stop her.

"This isn't your fault Jane, at least not all of it. I told you a long time ago that I wanted you to come to me with anything. I could've let you go alone, but I didn't. Thing is, I don't think I can do that anymore. I need you to understand that although I don't expect you to stop your search, I don't think I can be there with you all the way. I know we've come a long way in our relationship, but there have to be some limits and I hope you can accept that."

She doesn't meet his gaze once she's run out of words, choosing instead to stare at an unseen spot on the floor and Jane is at once seized with an incredible desire to pull her into his arms again.

He never should have asked her to come. He thought he'd been doing the right thing, but now he thinks it was actually pretty selfish of him. He knew in the back of his mind that Lisbon, his reliable, strong, fireproof Lisbon would agree to go with him and as elated as he had been at the idea at that point, he should have realized that if things were to go terribly wrong, she would bear the brunt of it, get burned the most.

Of course, the tunnel vision, the blindness to all other things when it comes to Red John had blocked out all thoughts of consequences. The guilt at that realization is as sharp and all consuming as ever and Jane can't help but wince slightly as the dull ache in his skull starts to return slowly.

He'd been so focused on her, on what Lisbon had been saying, he hadn't realized the muted pain had turned into a full fledged throbbing, which now seems to be a deserving adjunct to the sharp pain in his chest. His quest for vengeance has managed to fracture the only good thing in his life and he wasn't even fully aware of the enormity of the situation until he found himself snared by Lisbon's captivating green eyes, currently brimming with unshed tears.

Lisbon remains guarded but her true feelings are exposed and the hurt and disappointment swimming in her gaze and permeating the air between them makes it hard for Jane to breathe, let alone say anything.

He wants to apologize, wants to promise her that he will do anything she says, that he will work as hard as he can to honor her wishes even though he doesn't completely understand them but the pain consumes all his senses, leaving him mute.

Lisbon's eyes cloud with worry in a matter of seconds and she quickly scoots closer to him, placing her hand on his chest to push him into a more prone position.

Jane tries to hide his discomfort but can't help wincing as his head makes contact with the pillows. He grasps her wrist, intent on saying something, anything but Lisbon leans over him and places her finger to his lips, smiling ruefully as she brushes the damp curls from his forehead with a motherly affection Jane knows she seldom reveals.

He runs his thumb over her wrist in response, stubbornly opening his mouth to speak even though she's silenced him already.

"You don't have to say anything; I know it's a lot to take in, I should have probably waited until we were back at home. Why don't you try to sleep again, it might help with the pain."

Her touch on his cheek warms him, breathes a little strength into him.

"Will you stay?" He asks quietly, eyes not diverting from hers. When she nods, Jane can't help feeling a little better, as if by merely continuing to be in her presence, he is imbued with a little more strength, more of his natural resolve, which helps combat the pain that's becoming like an incessant knocking on his skull.

Lisbon doesn't say any more, instead she resumes her position along his side, easing her left leg over his waist, her small arm resting in the middle of his torso, palm placed over his heart.

The rhythm of his breaths lulls her into a peaceful rest and even though she's wide awake, her body is more relaxed than it's been in several hours. She knows it probably has a lot to do with her finally getting what she needed to say off her chest. In all honesty, she hadn't been expecting a response, just wanted to say it before she chickened out. Now she's somehow lighter, less burdened by the anxiety that seemed to overwhelm her every thought between the moment she'd woken up this afternoon to the time she'd finally found herself staring into Jane's eyes before she kissed him.

He's in pain and it worries her, but the rational part of her reminds her that this is all par for the course. He has suffered a concussion and not even Jane, in all his imperviousness, is immune to the physical discomfort of such an injury.

It could've been worse, she thinks, before letting her eyes drift closed, welcoming the darkness as it helps her appreciate the heat of the body besides her and the comfort of her position against Jane's side.

She's drifting in and out of consciousness so she's not completely lucid at first when he speaks, but his words slowly permeate and it only makes her hold onto him that much more.

"I didn't intend for it to spiral this much out of control."

It's as close to an apology as she's going to get, but it's more indicative of Jane's remorse than an 'I'm sorry', so she wraps her arm tighter around him.

"I know you didn't."

It seems like a lame response but she feels him breathe a sigh of relief beneath her.

She knows she means something to him, probably a lot more than he'll ever be willing to admit and there's definitely no shortage of affection or sincerity coming from him on a daily basis.

However, when Red John is involved, everything seems to pale in comparison, everything loses its value. For a moment, she thought she was one of those things too and although the feeling is still somewhere on the outskirts of her mind, she pushes it further away. His palpable relief is a tangible indication that not all is lost yet; that there is a light in the end of the tunnel and that this is not the end for their relationship.

Lisbon is so consumed by this rare blossom of optimism that she almost doesn't hear Jane's whispers besides her or feel the softness of his lips against her forehead. When she does, the feeling only swells, warmth expanding from the inside until she senses the uncanny prickle of tears return, though for a completely different reason than before.

She turns her head slightly and realizes that it's indeed past midnight and a gentle smile graces her lips as she presses her mouth against the side of Jane's jaw.

"Merry Christmas to you too, Patrick."

When their eyes connect in the darkness, they both know that in some strange, twisted way, regardless of where they are, the moment still feels like a celebration.


	24. Part XXIV: Have a Heart and Try Me

**Running Through Red Lights**

Disclaimer: Don't own anything…lyrics by the Goo Goo Dolls.

Rating: M

Spoiler: Red Badge, Black Gold and Red Blood.

A/N: Thank you everyone for all the reviews! Heather, once again, did a fantastic job editing this mammoth chapter so thank you to her as well. After this, there's just an epilogue, which is already written and in the process of being edited so it should be up shortly. Seriously thank you everyone, especially reviewers who sign in anonymously and people who put the story on alert or favorite lists. I appreciate it!

xxx

Part XXIV: Have a Heart and Try Me

"_I wanna wake up where you are  
I won't say anything at all…"_

xxx

At first, it feels strange to step into these shoes. They're her favorite pair of heels, a deep red color and well worn in after having them for years. However, they feel foreign to her as she slides her foot against the usually familiar leather soles.

Still, as soon as she buckles the ankle strap and stands up, she again feels right standing in them. The dark color accentuates the natural pallor of her skin and the height of the heel makes her feel taller, more graceful somehow, even a little more feminine. It's a rare indulgence for someone who works in such a male dominated field.

Right now though, that's not what's on her mind. In fact, despite spending the better part of the past month worrying that she may not have a job to return to, Lisbon's mind is elsewhere as she applies a light coat of lipstick. For the first time in days, she doesn't think about how strange it will be, to be back after so long.

Instead, she worries that she's running a little late and Jane's gift still needs to be wrapped. Her eyes dart to the box sitting in the middle of her bed next to a roll of Christmas themed wrapping paper and a small blue bow. She suddenly feels a little ridiculous wrapping such an unusual gift in such garish paper, especially in light of the fact that they're almost into the second month of a new year. Nevertheless, she can't help smiling as memories of the past few weeks wash over her.

There are many ways to describe Jane but boring is definitely not one of them. Almost as soon as they'd both made a full recovery, Jane finally free of his headaches and dizziness, and Lisbon free of her stitches, he'd announced that the weekend before they were to return to work would be dedicated to celebrating Christmas. He'd wanted to make up for spending the better part of Christmas Day waiting for Jane to be discharged.

It feels like a lifetime has gone by, but she can't say she regrets the turn of events

Yes, her credibility was questioned.

Yes, Sam is probably still very disappointed and upset with her.

Yes, her boss now knows that she and her unruly consultant are involved.

But all that pales in comparison to the fact that both she and Jane are alive and okay and that they managed to somehow emerge relatively unscathed after yet another bump in the road.

She still can't shake the vague feeling of guilt. She's gone over the incident from every possible angle. She understands why she'd done things the way she had and she still believes that she'd made the right decision in the moment. What she tries not to examine is why she went in the first place. She'd figured that out from the moment Cho had shaken her awake in the hospital. There was no more denying the inextricable bond that held her to Jane and she resigned herself to the knowledge that given the same circumstances, she would likely do it all over again.

Though she hopes that in the future, she will not be faced with that kind of decision. The sudden uncomfortable tightening in her chest reminds her that despite being both healthy and employed, there are still issues between her and Jane that need to be resolved.

Originally, Lisbon had assumed that spending four weeks with Jane with no work to distract them would be complete and utter havoc mixed with a little anxiety considering the consultant rarely liked to remain idle for long periods of time. However, the actual experience was nothing like she'd imagined.

He'd been different, almost melancholy. Although they'd fallen into a very comfortable and familiar rhythm almost as soon as they'd arrived home, there were still moments of tension between them, not exactly uncomfortable but not the way they previously were.

They had shared most meals, cooking for one another. The conversation was never stilted, never boring. They'd watched old movies together, getting into heated debates over _The Matrix_ and _Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon_, with Lisbon preferring the former for the kickass fight scenes and Jane appalled that she found men in latex outfits in an alternate universe more interesting and thought provoking than female sword fighters in ancient China.

They'd continued to share the bed, still somehow finding each other through the night, regardless of how far apart they started out.

However, through it all, there'd been an invisible wedge between them. Sometimes the silences almost buckled beneath the weight of unspoken words. It would become so overwhelming that Jane would leave the house now and then in the middle of the night, taking long solitary drives presumably to clear his mind.

Those nights were always the worst for her; waking up to an empty bed, feigning sleep as he slid in beside her in the early dawn, pretending he'd never left. Still, she'd never pushed him, never said a word.

It was not that she wasn't upset; it was not that she wanted to play some sort of long suffering martyr.

Quite the opposite, she was pissed as hell most nights, angry not because he would leave, but because he wouldn't talk to her. In all this time, he still hadn't brought up their conversation in that hospital room. Even through all his tentative touches, his soft whispered words of adoration, and his commitment to cook her breakfast every morning, Jane remained silent.

He barely alluded to the incident itself, except to say that he hadn't meant for it to happen and that was it. Lisbon had wanted to bring it up, but felt that for once it was his turn to be forthcoming with his emotions. Regardless, she really had nothing else to say. She'd said everything in the hospital that day.

Jane, even on a good day, was never very vocal about his feelings. Still, he had promised her honesty at some point, a little bit of candor here and there. Was it really too much to ask for?

She isn't a patient woman, but she acquiesced to an unspoken agreement of a month. She'd never said anything to Jane about it, but now she thinks he'd probably figured out that she would give him until they had to go back to work to talk to her before bringing it up again.

After all, with Jane there is no such thing as coincidences. So she's not really surprised that he's planned an evening for them two days before they have to return to the real world.

The ring of her doorbell sends a jolt of anticipation through her as she wonders what the evening will bring.

He's practically living at her place, but on this night he insisted that he would pick her up. Although Lisbon pretended to be annoyed, secretly she can't ignore the butterflies rising low in her abdomen.

They distract her for a moment, long enough for Jane to impatiently ring the doorbell again. Lisbon realizes with some chagrin that the gift still sits unwrapped, but she doesn't want to keep him waiting either. After a moment of thought, she somehow manages to fit the gift into her clutch before turning the lights off in her bedroom and taking the stairs carefully but hurriedly to the door.

She'd wanted to be more graceful than this, having spent the last month in sweat pants and jeans, but she's more concerned with remembering where her favorite gray pea coat is than impressing Jane. Thus, when she opens the door, mouthing a quick hello before rushing back to the hall closet, Lisbon doesn't even notice Jane's jaw slackening just a little as he takes in her appearance.

It's only when she feels his arms wrap around her, that she takes a moment to fully appreciate the effect she has on him, silently congratulating herself on going with the black dress.

At first, she'd been hesitant to wear it, because the hem of the A-line skirt fell just above her knee, right at the point where her scar ended. She thought she would feel a little exposed, but now she's glad she wore it.

Judging by his hum of approval, Jane seems to agree.

"Are you trying to kill me?" He murmurs into her ear, before pressing a soft kiss to her bare shoulder.

The simple gesture almost paralyzes her, tingles racing up and down her spine. It reminds her that regardless of everything that's happened, Jane is still the same man who knows exactly where to touch her to leave her body humming within seconds. A familiar stirring begins to materialize.

Lisbon turns in his embrace, a playful smile on her lips, as she lets her thoughts of any impending conversation between them dissipate and slides her hands around his neck, fingers threading instinctively through soft curls. Jane releases a groan but before he can say anymore, Lisbon pulls him into a hot, open mouthed kiss.

There's nothing chaste about the way she pulls his lower lip into her mouth, tongue grazing the familiar flesh as Jane presses her impossibly closer, heat enveloping them within minutes as their movements become more frenzied.

Finally, they break apart, gazing at each other silently, as though memorizing each other, reacquainting themselves with features that feel both familiar and new. They have shared kisses since the hospital but it's never been as unguarded or as inebriating. Lisbon almost wishes that they could skip whatever Jane has planned, because he feels way too good so close to her and the desire darkening his normally sea-blue eyes only deepens the ache growing inside her.

Jane seems to echo her sentiment.

"I'm seeing all my plans for the night suddenly losing their value," he murmurs in a low baritone while tucking a wayward strand of hair behind her ear. She's very nearly seduced but Lisbon manages to snap out of it, rolling her eyes as she turns around to finally retrieve her coat.

"Nice try, Romeo, but I didn't spend this much time getting ready for it to go to waste."

"I can assure you already that it hasn't gone to waste." Jane stops to ponder as Lisbon slips into her coat.

"You look bewitching," he adds thoughtfully with his signature whimsical smile, the kind that Lisbon has seen women salivate over. She merely raises an eyebrow in response.

"'Bewitching?' Really?" She comments, shutting the living room light off. "I knew I should have never let you talk me into watching the remake of _Pride & Prejudice_. The BBC version is just so much better."

"Hmm, I suppose you're right, but I think 'you have bewitched me body and soul' is a very eloquent albeit pretentious way of telling someone how deeply you have fallen in love with them."

Lisbon can't help the chuckle that escapes at his ruminations. There's a hint of mirth in his words, a playfulness she's missed in the last few weeks so she can't resist continuing their banter. She opens her mouth to retort as they step out into the chilly January evening, but Jane snags her hand again, thumb ghosting over the inside of her wrist and in the dim lighting on her porch, the intensity of his gaze sends goose bumps down her spine.

His breath lingers on her cheek and she wants to kiss him again so badly. However, the look in his eyes and gentle fingers against her arm keep her in place.

"As for me," Jane whispers, continuing his earlier train of thought, "I prefer a more subtle approach."

He presses his lips to her cheek and escorts her to his car. It's only then, when his warm hand slips into hers fully, fingers interlacing as he pulls her along that Lisbon feels, rather than understands, the implication of his words.

His ring finger is bare.

xxx

Jane takes her to a small Spanish restaurant she's never been to before and pours her entirely too much sangria. She actually doesn't mind, savoring the tart flavor of the fruit-infused wine and returning each and every one of Jane's smiles as they talk about everything and nothing at the same time.

When she first noticed that his wedding ring was gone, no doubt an intentional gesture on Jane's behalf, Lisbon thought the evening would be a total bust. She was sure that there would be no way she could keep it out of her mind. She was certain that the enormity of the act and her attempt to catalogue the ramifications would render her completely useless company.

However, as the evening wears on, Jane keeps her attention fully focused on other things. The absence of his wedding band is all but forgotten in a dinner filled with glances, smiles, and subtle touches.

It's all very intimate, all so impossibly soothing to her soul, and sometime between dessert and walking hand in hand back to the car, even as her thumb absent mindedly traces over soft, newly naked skin, Lisbon realizes the ring really didn't matter as much as she thought.

Jane smiles wistfully at her when he feels her trace over his finger, and it dawns on her that his removal of the ring is more for himself than for her. She's certain that it couldn't have been easy to part with such a powerful talisman after all these years and suddenly she's overcome by such an intense sense of pride that she can't hold in what she wants to say.

She stops Jane before he can open the car door for her and places her hand against his cheek.

She's surprised by how warm his skin is, with just the smallest bit stubble, just the way she likes it. A jolt of longing hits her deep in the gut, distracting her momentarily, but she will not be deterred.

Collecting her thoughts, Lisbon searches for the right words. Jane watches her intently, eyes soft in the darkness, waiting for her patiently.

"You didn't have to do that." She whispers earnestly. Taking his left hand into hers, she can't help but marvel at the way the newly bare skin contrasts with the rest of his ring finger.

At first, Jane doesn't say anything, and Lisbon fights her natural impatience. He finally opens the car door, easing her into the passenger seat, before replying, "I know I didn't have to. I wanted to."

Strangely, his response is enough. They haven't really talked about anything yet. He still hasn't opened up, but Lisbon feels an odd sense of calm. It's as if the jagged pieces of their relationship, the little fractures that she was terrified would form into larger cracks, are actually piecing themselves back together, forming a shape she finally recognizes.

xxx

The cool breeze filtering in through the open window contrasts nicely with the warmth of Jane's hand on her thigh, so for a while Lisbon doesn't even pay attention to where they're going. Usually, she would be more alert, more in control, but not tonight. Tonight, she's content to let him lead for a change.

Scenery flies by as Jane weaves effortlessly through the city streets but at some point, Lisbon notices that they're driving away from her house rather than towards it.

Still, she doesn't ask Jane where they're going, knowing there is very little chance he will actually tell her what their destination is, considering how secretive he's being tonight.

She doesn't have to wait long to get her answer. Soon enough they turn into a quieter, residential neighborhood and Jane slows down and pulls into the driveway of a house Lisbon has never seen before.

Instantly, her mind flashes back to the conversation they'd had in her kitchen the morning of their visit to Evans and the house no longer looks foreign to her. It looks exactly as Jane described it. When he cuts the engine and catches her gaze, eyes clouded with uncertainty, Lisbon gives him her most genuine smile before getting out of the car.

"It's just the way you said it would be." She says in quiet wonder, admiring as much of the one story property as she can in the poor lighting of the streetlamp. Jane stands just a little behind her, close enough for her to sense his strength. She instinctively leans against him.

"Well, I am told I have a way with words," Jane murmurs playfully, eliciting a soft chuckle from Lisbon.

They stand like that for a few moments until a cold wind flows past and Lisbon shivers unconsciously. Jane takes her by the hand, leading her to the door.

He unlocks it and Lisbon expects to step inside, but he stops her, blocking the threshold. Beyond him, the living room is bathed in darkness.

"You have to close your eyes for this," Jane explains, and Lisbon raises her eyebrow at him suspiciously.

Apparently, not even three glasses of sangria can take away her desire for control completely.

"Why?"

Jane shakes his head, half in amusement and half in mock frustration. "Can you for once not be so suspicious of my motives, woman. I'm not going to hypnotize you, I promise."

Lisbon opens her mouth to retort, but it dies on her lips when she realizes that he looks like petulant child.

"Fine, fine," she concedes, shutting her eyes begrudgingly, "But just for the record-…"

She doesn't finish her sentence, because even through shut eyes, she registers the change in the light. Everything is suddenly brighter. No sooner than Jane can give his consent, Lisbon opens her eyes, breath caught in her throat as she takes in the sight around her.

The sparsely furnished living room is surprisingly cozy for having so little in it. The fireplace, which is probably unnecessary in Sacramento, compliments the space, giving it a wonderfully homey feel.

Lisbon would notice all these things, if she were not completely taken aback by the garland lights strewn across the whole room. They are bright, colorful, and twinkle in a slow rhythm, leading her eye to a lavishly-decorated Christmas tree that takes her breath away. The Rockwellian tableau is completed by two stockings pinned to the mantle. Upon closer inspection, she recognizes the one on the left. Her mother had made it for her when she was just six years old, her name sewn in thick gold lettering contrasting against the pattern of red and green.

Peeking up from beneath the white trim is a small gift, wrapped in cheerful Christmas paper.

The entire scene leaves her awash in memories of her childhood, of Christmases they'd had before their family fell apart. Fighting back tears, she refuses to let the emotions welling up beneath the surface overtake her.

Instead, she turns to Jane, who is eyeing her uncertainly. Although the sight of him looking so unsure is rare and confusing, Lisbon can't help goading him when she spots a few familiar ornaments on the tree.

"So is this what you were doing in my storage closet last week, stealing my holiday decorations?"

Jane immediately relaxes under her playful gaze, and approaches her with his usual confidence intact.

"You like?" He asks once he's close to her and Lisbon can't resist sliding her arms around his neck.

"I love it."

She reaches up to kiss him and this time, in the glow from both the lights and the wine, it's harder than ever to break apart. Jane doesn't seem to mind as he presses his palm into her hip, tracing patterns into her skin through the thin material of her dress that clings to her curves in a very sinful and distracting way.

Between the warmth of her body against his and the way her tongue is expertly leaving no crevice of his mouth unexplored, Jane has to fight hard to pull away. Hurt and confusion registers in Lisbon's eyes, but he pushes aside any regrets and focuses on what he has to say.

"I want you to open your gift first," he explains, affectionately brushing a wayward lock of hair from her forehead.

Reminded of the box poking out of her stocking, Lisbon immediately perks up and smiles in agreement. She shrugs her coat off, and Jane doesn't bother hanging it up, instead focusing all his considerable willpower on avoiding being drawn in by the expanse of skin suddenly on display.

It reminds him of exactly how long it's been since he could touch her without restraint, without guilt. Tonight, he wants to change that; he wants to exorcise the guilt and remorse that has been holding him down. He knows it can't be fixed in one night, but he's got to start somewhere and taking his ring off was the first step. It was the only way he could think of to prove to her, and maybe to himself, that he does love her, has loved her for a long time, probably even before he, himself, picked up on it.

Even though he cannot stop looking for Red John, he knows what's important in his life and Lisbon is it.

Sometimes it terrifies him, how far he's come in such a short time. He's a creature of habit, despite what others might believe, abhorring any alteration to his character. Routine is what he operates by, the same armor, the same shield, the same mind games, but that no longer sates him. He knows Red John is a goal, but what about after?

What happens after he avenges his family's death?

If he's lucky, he goes to prison. If he's not? Lately the realization that he would cause Lisbon an insurmountable amount of pain with any alternative makes him questions his future plans. It's not enough to stamp them out completely, but it does put things into perspective, makes him want to be everything she wants, everything she deserves for as long as he can.

He only hopes that she's okay with the here and now. He hopes that she understands just how much she has truly affected him, even if it's not always obvious.

Jane doesn't notice Lisbon looking at him, luminous green eyes gleaming with concern. When he finally does, he quickly leads her to the couch, afraid to lose his resolve if he waits any longer.

"I have something for you too," Lisbon admits, opening her purse and pulling out a small leather box. It's not wrapped and Jane can't help chuckling a little, realizing that she'd been indeed running late when he'd shown up at her doorstep.

He's not surprised by the gift but he does wonder what she got him. He's known since their impromptu trip to San Francisco that she'd bought him a gift in that antique shop but he hadn't thought about it since and now he can't even begin to guess what it is.

"What's so funny?" Lisbon asks him, lips curling unconsciously into a bashful smile as she watches him. Jane shakes his head running his fingers through his hair, a habit that Lisbon has noticed he's picked up whenever he's especially nervous.

"Oh no, nothing," Jane answers, placing the gift on the table in front of him, and turning his body towards her.

He's once again momentarily sidetracked by the vision in front of him. The lights on the tree create a glow around her, accentuating every part of her that leaves his mind wandering for hours; the delicate curve of her shoulder, the dark red of her lips, and her almost translucent skin offset beautifully by the black satin of her dress.

He leans back, expelling a breath, "You're making this entirely too hard, you know that?"

Lisbon can pinpoint the moment that all traces of humor leave his face, the creases around his eyes softening as his jaw sets and his gaze turns more somber. He stares at the Christmas lights for a moment, before returning his attention to her. She's seen the look before, a mixture of guilt, remorse, perhaps a tiny bit of self-hatred, and she immediately dreads his words, bracing herself for the worst.

"I, uh…I wanted to thank you for taking care of me this past month."

"Oh c'mon," She can't resist interrupting him, hoping to regain a little levity. "You know there's nothing else I would've done, would have wanted to do."

It's easy to say so now, now that they're talking, bantering, slowly returning to normal. Lisbon knows Jane is aware that the ease with which she speaks is only granted through hindsight. She would not be as easy going if he'd said this after one of the nights he'd slipped out to wander around aimlessly. That must be why he grasps her hand, squeezing it gently, as if to reinforce his gratitude.

"I do, but if I were you, I'd have thrown me out by now," he counters and Lisbon feels a cold shiver run down her spine at the sincerity in his words.

It breaks her heart that he's so convinced of this, even though she's tried to prove him otherwise through the entirety of their relationship.

"Then it's a good thing, you're not me."

She scoots closer to him with a soft smile, arm wrapping around his shoulders instinctively as he leans against his elbows, looking straight ahead, tension radiating off of him in waves. He doesn't say anything at first and she exhales, impatience overpowering her desire to be there for him.

"Look, Patrick. We've been over this before; I've made it clear that I'm not going anywhere-…"

"That's exactly my point," Jane exclaims and regrets it when he notices her flinch. He shouldn't have raised his voice, but the frustration he's wrestled with for almost a month now seems to have amplified in the last five minutes.

"I can't give you what you deserve, Teresa. I can't promise you anything more than what we have now and you are worth so much more than that. You deserve a loving husband, a noisy house full of children, security, all of which I cannot promise, not at least until I have finished what I started."

"You're missing a small detail here," Lisbon cuts in before Jane can say anymore.

He looks at her then, the stern resolve in her eyes, the way she still holds onto him, despite his words.

"Have you ever considered that maybe this _is _what I want, what I _deserve_?"

Jane lets out a humorless laugh, shaking his head, "No. No one deserves this, least of all you."

The comment sends a wave of anger through her. She's tried to get through to him time and again, but he's just as stubborn as she is, forever resigned to self-loathing, and she's sick of it.

"Look if I don't _deserve_ you, why did you bring me here? Why did you even take your wedding ring off? Why don't you just end it then?"

Her exasperation catches Jane off guard. He laments the loss of her touch almost as soon as she drops her hands from where they were on his shoulders. He's not sure what she's aiming for, but he doesn't have an answer for her, at least not one that feels right.

"I took my wedding ring off because I don't want you to ever doubt how important you are to me. I want you to know that even though I can't promise you permanence, I can promise to try to be the person you want me to be here and now. I just-…"

Her hand on his thigh stops him, derailing his train of self-flagellation.

"As long as you're willing to try, that's all that matters to me."

At first, it seems like he's about to argue, but Lisbon holds his gaze in silent communication before they sink simultaneously into a tight embrace, knees awkwardly bumping against each other but not detracting from the intimacy of the moment.

Despite her reassurances, Jane can't ignore the returning anxiety that bubbles within his chest at the thought that he'd nearly lost this to his quest for vengeance. It makes him wrap his arms even tighter around Lisbon, nose buried in her neck, her familiar scent soothing him.

"I could have lost you," he whispers against her ear and Lisbon shivers, both from the memory his words trigger and from the heat of his breath against her skin.

She pulls him even closer in response until she's almost in his lap. Leaning back, she meets his eyes, and is struck by the regret and adoration reflected in them, an odd juxtaposition that tugs at her heartstrings in an unexpected way.

She's not sure who kisses who first, but when Jane's fingers glide along the back of her dress, expertly finding the zipper, it ceases to matter.

xxx

He's not asleep so he feels her slip out of his embrace.

A moment later, he hears the sound of the patio door sliding open, but he doesn't follow her. He knows she needs a moment to herself, and he also knows she will enjoy the view of the river as he has every time he's been here.

Jane stretches lazily against the couch, enjoying the familiar soreness in his muscles, a smile tugging on his lips as he reflects on the evening. It couldn't have been more perfect and all he wants is to stay in this house indefinitely: doors locked and phones off, just so he can show Lisbon how earnest he is in his promise to give her what she truly deserves.

He turns to admire the Christmas tree and his eyes land on the box sitting innocently on the coffee table. He knows it would be wrong, but he's suddenly overcome with curiosity. He just has to know what she got him.

Impulsively, he sits up and opens the box before he changes his mind. The emotion rising in his throat as he takes in the medallion inside comes as a bit of a surprise.

Jane is not a religious person, was never brought up to believe in a higher power; later taught to believe only in his own abilities and how he can benefit from them, but he knows enough of religion to identify the pendant hanging off the thick silver chain.

St. Michael the Archangel: the commander of the Army of God; the one who went into battle against Satan, against evil. The significance of this gift doesn't elude him, neither does the warmth and love the gift triggers as he thinks of the woman who bought it for him.

Wistfully, Jane runs his thumb over the engraved image of the winged man commanding his spear. Spurred by sudden inspiration, he shuts the box before jumping off the couch, pulling on his underwear, and retrieving his gift to Lisbon. He almost regrets not giving her a chance to unwrap it, but all his doubt disappears as he steps onto the deck.

For a moment, he just admires her, takes in her small frame engulfed by his light blue button down leaning against the railing with her right foot crossed over her left ankle. The pose is unintentionally sexy and he'd be happy to spend all night watching her, drinking in the sight of her translucent skin and dark cascading locks.

Ultimately though, the pink scar protruding from beneath the short hem of his shirt propels Jane forward until he's pressed into Lisbon's side, wrapping one arm around her waist and with the other, holding the gift out to her. Her eyes immediately widen in recognition as she takes in the necklace dangling from his hand, finger tracing the familiar pendant, before gazing up at him.

"How did you? I thought it was still-"

"Evidence?" Jane interrupts her, reveling in her pleasantly surprised reaction. She nods mutely, and he smiles, running his hand up and down her back.

"They finished processing it two weeks ago. The old chain was broken, which is quite the coincidence, because I'd already planned to give you a new one."

Lisbon stares at the cross her mother gave her, overwhelming relief pouring into her as she realizes how much only the sight of it manages to restore the little bit of the peace that she's been searching for. She can't contain the tears blurring her vision or the smile that spreads over her lips as Jane unclasps the necklace and wordlessly fastens the cross around her neck, right where it belongs.

"Thank you," She murmurs softly, before pressing her lips against his shoulder and curling into his side, cheek resting against his chest, the beat of his heart lulling her senses.

For a while Jane is content to just hold her, staring into the vastness of the Sacramento River as it flows past them, moonlight reflecting off the ripples in the water. Eventually, however, Lisbon disentangles herself from his embrace, intent on pulling him back inside the house.

"C'mon, I want to give you, your gift."

Jane is about to play along, but Lisbon catches his eye as she says this. Realization dawns on her and she crosses her arms over her chest, a bemused smile tugging at her lips.

"Patrick Jane, did you open your present already?" Lisbon chides him like she would a child and Jane ducks his gaze guiltily, teetering on his heels as he avoids her raised eyebrow.

He can't help smiling though, because it feels normal again.

"I'm sorry, but I couldn't resist," he admits sheepishly and Lisbon heaves an exaggerated sigh.

"Forgive me?" He adds, approaching her carefully, but she just rolls her eyes. Still, he knows it's an act when her eyes reflect a glint of mischievousness, the sparkle that seemed to be muted for the last few weeks.

He knows she feels it too, that certain something falling into place, everything shifting back to equilibrium between them.

So when Lisbon leans over, whispering that he'd better hope St. Michael will do a good job defending him against her, Jane's smile only widens. In a swift move that surprises both of them, he scoops her up into his arms and carries her into the house.

Where he spends the next couple hours proving to them both that her threats are indeed empty.

xxx


	25. Epilogue: Relish In The Morning Sun

**Running Through Red Lights**

Disclaimer: Don't own anything…lyrics by Dido.

Rating: M

Spoiler: Red Badge, Black Gold and Red Blood.

A/N: A while ago, I read a really good story by a writer who has since stopped posting on this website due to plagiarism (one person ruins it for everyone huh?). Anyway, in her final chapter, the author said that she wanted to thank everyone before the epilogue, so that the last words the reader remembers of the story are not those of the author, but of the actual characters. To capture the essence so to speak.

For some reason I found that completely awe inspiring and although it is NOT my idea, I think I wanted to follow her example. This story has definitely been a huge part of my life for the last six months. I loved writing it; it was such an incredible experience. More importantly, getting such amazing feedback only added to the fun I had. I want to thank my beta, Heather, for helping me improve my writing and Grace, Carley, and Chibi for letting me bounce ideas off of them.

Finally, thank you to every single one of you who reviewed, 'favorited', or put the story on alert. I sincerely appreciate it!

**Thank you:** LSR-7, McLoving Grey's, paper frog, Frogster, yasminbanu786, Ania Nicole, lisbon69, celticgina, Bibi Pepe, Jules83, cybercat08, Gadget, JocelynMcC, mwalter1, Ebony10, CaskettLover, mia66, nancye-2000, Divinia Serit, phoenixflame12x, Warda, ThaunduilsDaughter, lil_smiles, hardly loquacious, khalek-aeryn, Skinner, brucy, Seoul, Crash Murphy, Moune, Chiisana Minako, seven days later, Viktorija, Tempe4Booth, chaviv86, Davies'Girl, chocolatefan, CharmedNightSkye, Veritium, phoenixmagic1, raw potato, Jess, Odakota Rose, tromana, shopping-luva91, Tabitha of MoonAurora, Aquila1, HappyJan, xxxBekaForEvaxxx, alygator1666, Christina S., MoLe, Mabeline36, CSI-4077, SpaceAnJL, finaldragon13, Laura, blondieland, mtm, Princess Poppy, jo, Carrie O'Neal, macisgate, UnbreakBroken, Cathartes, Five Roses, O Flippered One, evs14u, Bezelburr, Firebreather23, MentalistLover, ahhpleezeninja, MissStud, Famous4it, lisbonloafers, sweetandsombre, JackSam, 0, , Katharen Silver, GibbsIsMyGod, Simonisthecuttestmentalist, Jisbon-fan, Quicksilvermad, Hawky-Hates-You, martini crazy, Maus, boutondor, steffal, Charmed225, LaFemmeQuiRit, Neoholmesz, Look-Me-Up, Rina-the-Brave, tigerlily124, Madam Spooky, raquelvalente91, Maria, Aurelie G, traceycole, forthecoast, Tess, NellietheMarvelous, klcarr892, jbon, Country2776, Anna, anthropologist, Sajaat, angierox2lov.

XXX

Epilogue: Relish In The Morning Sun

"_It's been a long day coming and long will it last  
when it's last day leaving and I'm helping it pass  
by loving you more…"_

XXX

He gets the call confirming that the body found dumped near a gas station along I-80 is indeed Robert Evans just as he pulls into the CBI parking lot.

The initial information about a possible ID came about 45 minutes earlier, just as he was finishing up his morning coffee and toast, sans jam thanks to his neurotic wife and know it all physician.

He immediately sent his best man, Hicks, to confirm the identification. As he relayed the instructions to the agent, his eye caught today's date in the corner of the sports section and he realized with chagrin that today Lisbon and Jane were due back from their suspension.

He knew immediately that if the body was in fact Rob Evans, his earlier theory would be proven.

The entire unit, including Minelli, was in agreement from the very beginning that Evans had been kidnapped by someone, most likely Red John. After four grueling days of questioning witnesses and retracing Evans' steps, they'd produced two separate accounts that confirmed that a man matching Evans' description got into an unmarked sedan on the corner of Chestnut and Grove approximately ten minutes after the altercation on his porch.

They hadn't had enough evidence to suspect Red John right away, but it seemed like the most likely theory, and the most terrifying. If it was Red John, that meant he was watching, that meant he was watching Jane, and was probably watching Lisbon too.

Now that it's confirmed that the knife marks are consistent with the serial killer's MO, Bosco feels the contents of his simple breakfast slowly churning in his stomach as his theories become likely conclusions. There's only a minute chance that finding Evans on the same day Jane's suspension is lifted is a coincidence, and although Bosco absolutely abhors the concept of working with the consultant, he knows what he has to do.

He hangs up on Hicks with that thought swirling in his mind; a little seed planted in his head a month ago now steadily blossoming into a full tree. He frowns beneath his mustache as he grabs his briefcase from the empty passenger seat. However, just as he's about to step out, he notices two familiar cars pull into the parking lot, finding spaces right next to each other.

It's an amusing juxtaposition, the small, baby blue archaic looking Citroen fitting into a tiny spot next to the modern and quite sporty looking black Mustang as it cuts the engine. What's even more entertaining is the sight of the small woman exiting the sleek car and the large man getting out of the tiny four-door that seems so impossibly out of place here.

Bosco would smile, even chuckle a little, if there weren't more pressing matters on his mind, if he wasn't about to go do something he really would rather not.

He makes his way towards the couple, who seem to be embroiled in some sort of playful conversation. He notices that Lisbon rolls her eyes as she rummages through the car, at whatever words Jane whispers over her shoulder into her ear. It's only when Bosco is close enough to hear her speak that for a moment he feels like he's infringing on a private moment.

"I've told you a million times, we are not driving to work in one car, even if it saves gas-…"

"Meh, and I thought you were a friend of the environment," Jane comments dryly and Lisbon turns around sharply to retort, but halts when she sees Bosco standing a few feet away.

He's watching her intently, as though assessing her for damage and it reminds her so distinctly of the concerned glances he would throw her way during her rookie days that she swallows the tiny lump in her throat, and forces a smile.

"Sam, good morning."

"Good morning to you too, Teresa, Jane."

She looks good, Bosco thinks, not tearing his eyes away from Lisbon, even as he acknowledges Jane by her side. He thought it would be awkward seeing her again, but when she smiles in greeting, it's almost like old times.

She, the fiercely independent and eager to learn rookie and he, the patient instructor.

Except she's not that person anymore and it's time that he accepts that, understands that instead of lamenting the past he should appreciate the present, be proud that his guidance has contributed in some way to the leadership she demonstrates, the confidence and intelligence that make Lisbon so well respected and adored.

Even if she's adored by people of whom Bosco doesn't necessarily approve.

His gaze shifts to Jane's and the hint of possessiveness in the consultant's sky blue glare doesn't go unnoticed. Bosco can't really blame him, considering the woman standing between them, but he shelves those thoughts away. Maybe in another time and place things would have been different, but they are not. In this very moment, Bosco decides he'd rather have Lisbon's friendship than the strained and awkward professional interaction they have endured since his transfer to the CBI.

Perhaps his gesture will help mend their fragile relationship.

The thought reminds him of his initial reason for approaching the couple.

"Look, I hate to do this to both of you on your first day back, but we found Rob Evans' body this morning."

The twin looks of surprise and muted horror on Jane and Lisbon's faces aren't unexpected. However, he's intrigued by the way their reactions deviate from there.

While Lisbon continues to try and hide her shock beneath her professional façade, Jane is silent, hands in his pockets as he stares at a spot beyond Bosco, guilt and realization mixing uncomfortably in his eyes.

Bosco attempts to fill them in on the details but Jane cuts him off.

"Its Red John, isn't it?"

Lisbon whips around to look at Jane, and Bosco notices the way her body leans unconsciously towards the consultant when she realizes the possibility is very real.

"Yes, I sent Hicks out to the scene. The knife marks are consistent with Red John's other killings."

There's a moment of heavy silence between them that doesn't feel right on a day filled with sunshine, pleasant breezes and smiling people bustling around them. Suddenly Bosco feels a sense of urgency, of duty to these people as his eyes scan the parking lot and surrounding buildings. He's a cop, an investigator, a protector and he will get Red John if it's the last thing he does.

"I was actually about to grab some files and head out to the scene myself. Teresa, do you mind giving Jane and me a moment to talk?"

Her eyes register surprise and just a little hurt, but she acquiesces.

Although, it still irks him when she holds Jane's gaze for a bit too long and then almost imperceptibly brushes her fingers against his as she slings her purse over her shoulder, for the first time Sam Bosco feels like he's doing the right thing.

xxx

The CBI headquarters are alive and buzzing with people.

She thought it would be weird, being back to work after such a long sabbatical. However, as soon as the elevator doors open on their floor, the familiar hum of people working, phones ringing and someone somewhere shouting out orders fills her with a sense of calm that only the CBI can bring.

On the way to her office, she checks in with Minelli. He's on the phone with someone who is apparently very annoying and Lisbon can't stifle a low chuckle at the image of her boss with his usual scowl, waving her off after mouthing an offhanded hello. They've spoken on and off for the last few weeks, him keeping her updated on the happenings in the office, in particular Cho doing an exemplary job leading the team, so the curt dismissal doesn't bother her.

In fact, it makes everything feel even more normal. By the time she greets her team and appreciates their obvious enthusiasm at her return, she can almost pretend that the conversation with Bosco never happened, that Evans is still out there somewhere, and Red John has not again resurfaced.

Then she spots Jane as he turns the corner and the mix of emotions in his eyes, one she hasn't seen in a while reminds her that she can no longer pretend everything is alright.

She should notify her team of what's happened, but she can't tear her eyes away from Jane as he strides determinedly towards her, motioning into her office and completely ignoring the rest of the people in the bullpen.

"Can I talk to you for a sec?" He asks, and Lisbon nods wordlessly.

She follows Jane into her office, but hesitates at the doorway feeling a little guilty for leaving the rest of her unit to watch their exchange in surprise.

"What's going on, Boss?" Rigsby calls after her and Lisbon takes a deep breath, pursing her lips together, before speaking.

"This morning, local authorities found Robert Evans' body off highway I-80. It looks like Red John."

After the initial shock wears off, they launch into questions that she doesn't have the answers to, but promises to fill them in as soon as possible. Everything becomes real at that point and the pressure building in her chest from the implications begins to grow at an unstoppable rate. She actually has to catch her breath as she closes her office door behind her.

Seeing Jane leaning against her desk deep in thought doesn't lessen the weight, instead it fills her with a sense of responsibility. She can practically see his thoughts; she knows that no amount of comforting words will alleviate his guilt. She foregoes trying to soothe him with empty consolations, opting for a more familiar tact.

They can talk more intimately later tonight, that is if Jane even makes it home. Suddenly, the anxiety bubbling below the surface is hard to stifle as she realizes that she has no idea how he's going to act with her now with these new revelations.

As if on cue, Jane gently touches her elbow, pulling her back before she can make it to her chair on the other side of her desk. She ends up leaning beside him, body turned halfway toward him as Jane drops his hand from her elbow, stuffing it back into his jacket pocket. The silence is heavy and it feels like an eternity before Jane speaks.

"Bosco asked me to consult on this and all future Red John cases."

"Oh,"

She can't stifle her surprise. Yet at the same time, there's another part of her, the one that has known Sam Bosco for almost ten years that feels a little lighter somehow now that the agent again reminds her of the man who had taught her so much.

Someone she finally recognizes.

"Yes, Bosco's pretty sure that it's not a coincidence that Evans turned up on the same day we were due back to work. He thinks it's likely that Red John might actually want me on the case."

His voice is resigned and resolute and although Lisbon fears she already knows the answer, she can't help but ask.

"And do you agree?"

Jane glances up from where his eyes were trained on the floor and Lisbon doesn't need any further confirmation. The realization forms a knot in her stomach, a sinking feeling followed by a churning that twists her insides. It's clear by the unguarded fear in his sea-colored gaze that Jane had not considered this a possibility previously but is very well aware of it now.

Impulsively, she takes the hand pressed into his thigh, squeezing it lightly in between her palms. On instinct, her eyes dart briefly to her closed office door, the untouched blinds that shield her from the difficulty of the world. She normally wouldn't initiate contact like this, especially at work and not after everything that's happened. The entire floor, hell the entire building probably knows about them, but she's not going to be the one to provoke the rumor mill further.

Still, in the face of his guilt and frustration with this whole mess that is Red John, the idea of rules and propriety seems irrelevant at the moment and she offers what comfort she can. Lisbon can't help but share in his guilt, because in a way, she's also responsible. After all, she went along with him willingly. Yet she wants to be strong, she needs to be in this situation, because it's unlikely Jane can hold up on his own, not with this much weighing on his shoulders.

"Until this is wrapped up, I probably won't be able to work on any cases with you guys."

He says it so nonchalantly, yet there's an underlying sadness in his voice and Lisbon can only nod.

"Yes, of course."

It seems like the end of the conversation, but she doesn't want to let go. It's a little juvenile, but she wants to stay in this bubble with Jane for as long as possible, hidden behind her door and blinds, just the two of them.

Despite sensing her anxiety, Jane reluctantly breaks their silence.

"Bosco is waiting downstairs; we're going out to the scene."

He rises to stand in front of her, but can't quite break contact yet, reveling in the warmth of her skin as she traces her thumb over his wrist bone.

Lisbon looks up at him through hooded lashes, a mix of anxiety and concern lurking in the deep green of her irises. The urge to pull her into his arms is overwhelming, but he knows she wouldn't appreciate the display of affection even if it isn't exactly public.

Instead, he settles for running his other hand just briefly through her hair, committing to memory the softness of the chestnut strands.

"Don't worry so much," he says almost playfully, a ghost of a smile on his face.

"I'm not," Lisbon replies. "You're in good hands."

He knows she means Bosco, but he can't help attributing the comment to her as he looks down at their interlaced fingers.

"Yes I am."

With those simple words, Jane finally separates from her, shoving his hands into his jacket as he disappears into the bustle outside her office.

For a moment, she doesn't know what to think, how to feel, her overworked mind trying to process all that's just happened. However as she shuts her eyes, the last six months rush through her head, snapshots of their time together, both good and bad, and when a tentative knock on the door thrusts her back into the real world, Lisbon knows she has to have faith.

_Trust._

Trust in Jane, trust in their relationship, trust that he'll be back and won't break his promises.

Van Pelt pokes her head in, looking uncertain, but Lisbon dispels her unease quickly, beckoning her into the office.

"Everything okay, boss?" The redhead asks, holding a thick file in her hands.

"Yes, everything is good."

She smiles earnestly at the younger woman. Van Pelt returns the gesture and begins debriefing her boss on the team's current case.

Lisbon interrupts her only once to walk across the room and open the blinds.

xxx


End file.
